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bloatedandalone04 · 2 months

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Purple All Over

➪the one where you can’t resist jake, and he can’t say no to you.

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, soft dom jake, swearing, oral (f receiving), face riding HEHA, overstimulation, that might be it...?

Word Count: 3k

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

“You’re such a bad influence on me, huh, baby?” Jake mumbles as he sucks another mark onto the skin of your neck. You huff out an embarrassed laugh as your nails softly dig into the skin of his biceps. “We’re supposed to be at the Hard Deck right now, supposed to be hanging out with my friends right now, but here we are.”

He was being such a tease and a bit of a hypocrite, seeing as he was just as bad as you are at controlling himself around you.

Could you really be blamed, though? Jake had walked out of the bathroom wearing tight fitting jeans and a white tee with his hair still wet from the shower, how were you supposed to resist that?

“I can’t help it,” you say under your breath, your hands gently tugging on his damp hair. His shirt had been on for about five minutes before you were taking it off of him, and his jeans were already unzipped as he rocked his hips against yours. “You looked so hot, Jake. It’s not fair.”

He laughed, pulling away from your neck with a smirk. “I got ready to go out with you so I could show you off,” he murmured, nudging your nose with his. “What’s not fair about that?”

You stare up at him with lust filled eyes, your head pressed against his pillow that smelled like his musky cologne you drool over every time he wears it. “Because that means other girls get to see how good you look without even trying,” you respond, tugging at the belt that was tucked securely around his jeans. “I’m just me.”

Jake laughed again, but not in a mocking way. His hands wrap around your wrists and he lifts them up and pins them against the bed on either side of the pillow, his smirk growing at your whine of protest. “Just you? Baby, you’re everything to me,” he promised, kissing you again and running the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip. “You’re my whole world.”

You groan, pushing against his hands but getting nowhere as he was a hell of a lot stronger than you without even putting an ounce of effort in. That thought alone had another wave of need rushing through your body, and if he wasn’t settled in between your thighs right now, you’d be squeezing them shut. “Keep talking to me like that and we’ll never make it to the Hard Deck,”

Jake shook his head at you, brushing his lips against yours as he muttered, “You’re tough,”

“You’re a tease,” you say back and watch as his eyes squint in another laugh, his head dipping down and resting on your chest. You fight against his hold again but he is persistent, and you whine as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Don’t tease me, Jake, please.”

He lifts his head and looks at your cute pout, his gaze softening and his smirk turning into a small grin. “‘M not teasin’, sweet girl,” he said and kissed the corner of your mouth. “Come on, put that pretty pout away, baby.”

Your pout softens as you gaze up at him, your eyes pleading with his to let you touch him. “I want you, Jake,” you all but begged, your core aching for him. “I need you.”

Jake groans quietly, finally releasing your wrists in order for him to hold himself above you by placing his forearms on either side of your head. “That’s good to know,” he rasped, his voice deep in the way it always got when he was horny for you. “‘Cause I kinda need you, too.”

You pull him closer to you by his shoulders. “Prove it,” you challenge in a sultry voice. Your hands slide down his bare chest and tug at the waistline of his jeans, pulling his front against yours. “Take these off, Jake. Show me how much you need me.”

He lifts himself off of you and stands at the foot of the bed, his lust filled eyes staring back down at you. “We’re gonna be late, baby,” he points out as he pulls off his belt. “But you’re lucky I don’t give a fuck. Take your dress off, sweet girl.”

You sit up and pull your dress off, tossing it aside and whimpering as his dark eyes rake up and down your body. “Jake,” you trail off, writhing under his intense gaze.

The corners of his mouth turn upwards as he adjusts himself in his jeans but still leaves them on. He kneels on the bed, his hands reaching out and spreading your thighs as he leans down and presses kiss after kiss to the skin of your abdomen. “You’re a bad influence,” he says again, taking the lace of your panties between his teeth and tugging at it. He lets the lace snap back into place before placing a final kiss to your hip, his fingers sliding up your thighs and pulling it down your legs. You squirm a bit, goosebumps forming on your skin as you lay half exposed under him. “You’re so sensitive.”

You smile shyly at him, a teasing look in your eyes that has him groaning. “It’s you, Jake,” you say with a blush covering your face. “Your hands are so big, they feel so good without you even trying.”

He hums as he kisses along your inner thighs. “It’s my job to make you feel good,” he reminded you as he stared up at you with dark eyes. “You gonna let me have a taste?”

You blush even more as you prop yourself up on your elbows. “When have I ever denied you that?”

Jake kissed the skin above your core. “You know I’ll always ask, pretty girl,” he reminded you. “Always.”

“I know,” you agreed, meeting his piercing green stare with hooded eyes. “It’s one of the many, many things I love about you.”

He grinned, “And this,” he trails off as he licks a stripe up your folds. “Is one of the many things I love about you.”

You bite down harshly on your lip as he begins to slowly circle your clit with the tip of his tongue, making your core clench with the need for more. “Jake,” you whisper, running one hand through his hair and making it messy. “Please, don’t tease me. I can’t do it tonight.”

“I’m not teasing,” he innocently replied, then looked up at you. His gaze softened as he met your needy glare, and he pulled away from your core. “Okay, baby. Come here.”

You furrow your brows and watch as he moves to lay next to you, a smug smirk plastered on his face as you ask, “What? You want me to….do you want me to..?”

“Ride my face,” he answered, his smirk growing at the wide-eyed look you give him. “Yeah.”

“Seriously?” You ask but he had already gone ahead and grabbed hold of your thighs, pulling you so your body was resting on his chest. “Jake-”

“Please, baby?” He asked, giving you his signature puppy dog eyes that never failed to have you melting. “Don’t make me beg, I just want to get you off.”

You give him a wary look. “What if I’m too heavy? Or I hurt you?”

He shakes his head, wrapping his arms around the undersides of your thighs. “You won’t hurt me,” he assured you, pulling your body closer to his head. “And don’t ever think you’re too heavy, that’s my girl you’re talking about.”

You were about to protest some more, but then Jake was guiding you forward and running his tongue along your folds again as you settled against his face. “Oh, God,” you gasp quietly as he tugs you closer, his mouth beginning to devour you as if he were a starved man. “Jake, baby.”

You knew he loved when you called him that as it didn’t make him feel like he was too old for you. He wasn’t, anyway, with him being thirty three and you being twenty six, but he still felt ancient at times, especially when his fellow aviators told him how lucky he is to have found a ‘hot, younger girl who actually wants to settle down with him’.

Jake hummed as he pulled away, his lips and chin wet with your arousal. “How we feeling, sweet girl?” He asked as he looked up at your fucked out expression.

“Good,” you barely manage to answer. “So good, Jake. So…different.”

He hummed again in agreement, teasing your clit again with a barely-there pressure. “It is, but I love the view I get from down here,” he smoothly replied, making you look down at him. “And I love that I still get to taste you like this, you know, with you on top.”

“God, you’re filthy,” you mutter, clenching around nothing when you see the smirk that took over his lips. “You’re too much, Jake, but I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he promised, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “So much.” His voice deepened as he dove back in and ran his tongue up your slit with more pressure than before.

“You’re so good at this,” you praise, bucking up against his mouth without meaning to. Really, you had no control over your body whenever Jake went down on you or fucked you.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” he mumbled and you blush as you think back to all the times he’s gone down on you in the years you’ve been together. Before you, Jake had no desire for oral, instead he settled on rough fucking. Then he met you and did a complete one eighty as he loved tasting you and had shamelessly begged you more than once to let him get you off with his tongue.

Your lips part as soft moans escape you beyond your control, and you reach down to grip his blond hair.

He must’ve been able to tell that you were holding back, as he pulled away again to say, “I really don’t want to beg right now, sweet girl. Ride me, will you?”

Your brows press nearly all the way together as you shake your head. “But what-”

Jake hushed you with a kiss to your clit. “I said you won’t hurt me. I’m a big guy, I can handle it,”

He kept his head still and gently urged your hips to move, and when you rolled them once and felt the friction from before intensify, your body shook with desire and excitement. “Fuck,” you gasp quietly and he pulled you forward again.

“There you go, baby, don’t hold back,”

And you didn’t.

With a firm hold on his hair, you let your hips move freely against his head as your dripping core ground onto his awaiting mouth. It was so different, you didn’t even know if you were doing it right, but it didn’t matter as Jake sucked and licked at you with every grind of your hips.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d say he’s enjoying this equally as much as you are. It didn’t surprise you when Jake started to moan as you rode his face, and the deep grunts he let out had you moving your body quicker as you felt your stomach tighten.

“Oh, my God, Jake,” you moaned as he licked up and down your sopping folds. “You’re gonna make me come.”

Jake grunted and reached up to tightly grip your hips, helping you fuck yourself onto him. “That’s the whole point, baby,” came his muffled response, and you would’ve rolled your eyes at the cockiness laced in his voice, but you were too far gone.

Your whole body tensed up as your release took over, and you squeezed your eyes shut. Jake was relentless as he lapped up everything you gave him and took control of your movements when you went limp above him. He fucked you with his tongue until you were crying out at the overstimulation and scrambling to get off him, uneven breaths leaving both you and Jake as you fall next to him.

“Jesus, Jake,” you huffed as you lay against his pillow. “You are concerningly good at that.”

Jake laughed as he shamelessly began palming himself through his jeans. “I got to make sure my girl feels good,” was all he said as you tried to catch your breath.

“Yeah, well, I don’t think you need to worry about that,” you tell him as you force yourself to sit back up and replace his hand with your own.

Jake groans as you push down his jeans and slide your hand in his tight boxer briefs, wrapping your fingers around him with a gentle pressure. “You don’t have to, baby,” but, God, did he want you to.

And you did, too. “How do you want me Jake?” You asked in a lust-filled tone that had Jake holding back a deep grunt as you stroked him gently.

“You want me to fuck you, sweet girl?” He asked and your mouth parted as you nodded slowly and withdrew your hand, licking at the precum on your thumb. Jake growled slightly as he sat up. “On your hands and knees, baby.” He ordered and you obliged instantly.

Crawling further up the bed, you glance over your shoulder at him and bite your lip softly as he runs his hand down the smooth skin of your back. “Fuck me, Jake,” you whined and he pulled himself free from his boxers.

“You sure you’re ready for that?” He mocked as he ran his tip down your folds. You jolted a bit at the feeling but leaned back when he pulled away, moaning needily afterwards. “You’re still shaking, sweet girl.”

“It’s alright. I’m alright, Jake,” you promised. “Please, I need you.”

“Okay,” he cooed as he coated himself in your wetness before burying himself deep in you with one swift movement. Your loud moan mixes with his deep grunt as he bottoms out completely, pulling your body back against his as you felt your legs nearly give out. “You okay, honey?”

You moan at the teasing tone he had and bury your face in his pillow. “Yes,” you whisper, taking it upon yourself to slide your body back and forth as he remains still. You felt a bit weak as you fucked yourself back against him, and you knew he was waiting for you to say the words. He was waiting for you to give in and let him completely ravish you as he wouldn’t do anything without your verbal consent. “Fuck me, Jake, I’m dying here.”

His deep laugh makes a blush form on your face as he slowly thrusts into you. “You and me both, baby,” he rasped before he grabbed your hips in his big hands and began roughly fucking into you.

Your arms give out pretty quickly and you fall against the pillow again as pornographic moans leave your mouth like a mantra. “Fuck,” you gasp as his tip effortlessly sought out your sweetspot. “Fucking hell, Jake.”

Jake laughed again, but it quickly turned into a strangled groan as he felt you clench tightly around him. “I know,” he muttered as he gripped your hips hard enough to leave fingerprints. “I’m struggling back here, too.”

You let out a tired laugh as he thrusts slowly but roughly into your aching and wet core. “Feels so good, Jake,” you whimper as you bunch up the sheets in your fingers. “So big.”

Jake groans loudly, leaning over your body as he picks up the pace once again. One of his hands covers yours on the bed, and you lace your fingers together and give them a squeeze as you feel another knot already beginning to form deep within you. Despite his the harsh fucks of his hips, his mouth presses soft and loving kisses to your shoulders and the back of your neck as you moan sweetly for him. “You’re perfect, baby,”

Your eyes roll back at his praise and you press your knees together as best as you can with his own in the way. “Oh, God,” you moaned. “I’m gonna come again.”

Jake pressed more kisses to your skin as your body moved with every thrust. Your hold on his hand tightened as you guided his other one to your front and pushed it towards your pulsing clit. “Are you sure, sweet girl?” He asked as his fingers hovered over the throbbing bundle of nerves, knowing how overstimulated you must be right now.

You nodded desperately, pushing on his hand until his fingers brushed against your clit. “Yes, fuck yes,” you gasped at the stimulation that shot through your body. You clench impossibly tight around him as he rubs random shapes against your clit, and before long you were burying your face in his pillow and crying out as you came for a second time. “So good…so good.”

Jake curses under his breath as you shake and writhe under him. “Jesus, baby,” he says breathlessly as your warmth surrounds him and sucks him in deeper. “I’m close, honey, do you need me to-”

“Keep going,” you answered his unasked question as you brace your head against his forearm. “Fill me up, Jake.”

He was sure you were near your limit right now, but the way you slowly met his thrusts told him that you would keep going until he came, too. “Fuck, baby, you’re too good to me,” he praised as he fucked you softer than before until he felt his own release begin to wash over him. “I’m coming, fuck.”

You moan quietly and hold onto his hand with the last remaining energy you had left in you. Jake pushed his come deeper in you with every slow thrust until he was forced to stop and fall onto the bed next to you.

Keeping your fingers laced together, you rolled over and wrapped his arm around your shoulders as you snuggled up against his heated body. “Fuck, I’m tired,” you confessed as he tried to catch his breath.

He laughed in agreement and kissed the top of your head. “Yeah, I don’t think we’re making it to the Hard Deck tonight,”

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hellavile · 2 years

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angel. sanemi.

⨳ cw: fem!reader, lowercase intended, black coded, breeding kink, reader gets folded like a pretzel, sanemi’s kind of an asshole?, overstim, mild degrading, pregnancy talk, drabble.

it’s so indecent the position he has you in currently. tummy folded, knees by your shoulders with his hot, clammy hands holding them down with all his strength. driving his cock deep into your pretty pussy, hips clashing hard, so hard you swear his skin could become one with your own. it’s hot. the room itself. your body is sweltering beneath him, not a window open, no air on. just on your back getting fucked into a squeaky mattress in your boyfriend’s dark apartment.

“it’s so deep in your pussy,” sanemi chokes, his bare chest coated lightly with his own sweat, rolling down the crevices of his chiseled abs. he looks so handsome above you. you’re surprised you can scan for a feature at all considering your eyes have been crossed for the past three minutes. it’s impossible to cough out an ounce of vocabulary. he feels so good. it’s intoxicating.

“you’re so disgusting,” he’ll call you out next, a habit of his. jaw clenching as the whites of his hair sticks to his forehead, thick voice rumbling in his throat as your cunt squeezes his dick, making it somewhat difficult to pull in and out. your lips aren’t meeting, mouth agape and tongue dry for too long now. you moan from his insult. “every word i say has your pussy clenching my dick tight.”

and he’s right. how could it not? he talks to you so well that your body’s reactions are heightened. finally, you focus your sight, which instantly becomes a problem again because it falls on his arms. the way they flex, the multiple scars scattered along his biceps and forearms. it makes you dizzy all over, whimpering and losing yourself. sanemi clenches his jaw with frustration, halting his waist.

“you’re going dumb,” now he’s dragging you further into him, sitting up fully on his knees and bear hugging your thighs to his chest. he’s deeper this time, and you can’t help but outstretch your arms above you, arching your back and submitting to him completely. “now how’s that any fun for me? you know i don’t like my angel silent.”

“ ‘nemi, please !” your sniffles are . . . cute, to say the least. it’s really funny how you’re trying to act innocent right now when it’s your fault you’re in this predicament to begin with. he was fine with coming home after a nice date at the park with your daughter. but you shifted the mood after putting the three year old to bed. catching an unnecessary attitude with him and he doesn’t fuck with a bitchy woman. you know better than that. so, lessons needed to be learned.

“let me take what i fucking want,” he growls maliciously, like a hungry, unhinged animal. pounding his cock into your puffy, swollen cunny. it’s been about thirty minutes since your little outburst in the bathroom. complaining that you wanted another baby and sanemi telling you that one child was enough. but you’re so fucking persistent on what you want it drives the man to insanity. “wanted me to breed you again, is that right? that’ll satisfy you, huh? putting another baby in your tummy?”

you hiccup, nodding your head. “mhm hmm.”

“that’s why you were acting out earlier. seeing that woman at the park with the bloated belly made you miss it. my poor girl.”

this was torture. he was playing with you. it’s not fair that you’ve orgasmed twice yet he’s holding back so much from you. the main objective, and what you wanted so badly in your womb right fucking now. your limbs are tired and you’re ready to throw another fit in a minute if he didn’t give you his cum. such a simple task he’s making extremely difficult. sanemi splits your thighs apart to slot himself back in between, chest to yours, applying all of his weight. you weakly raise your right hand to rake through his scalp, tugging and rotating your hips beneath him, desperately pleading for him to move. you seal him to you with your legs locking on the backs of his, making sure he doesn’t escape. he grins at your plan.

“sanemi. do it. please hurry! i need it!”

you’re on the verge of breaking down. he’s trying not to give in too fast, but at this point it’s been long enough. he’s sleepy, and you’re getting rapid. sanemi puts most of his weight into his right forearm, using that as leverage along with his knees to slide his dick halfway out of you, only leaving the tip kissing your hole, stays there for a second before saying, “act like you deserve it. beg me.”

and if there’s anything sanemi’s angel knows how to do? it’s fucking beg. curling up into him and humping him like you’re feral. “please baby, wanna be full. fuck your cum into me. wanna have another baby. i wanna be pregnant again! i need your cum. please. please. please. i’ll do anything, fuck please?!”

only then is he satisfied. filthy angel.

“enough,” sanemi sinks your knees back into the bed, sheathing his cock back inside, only needing a few more pumps before he’s spilling inside just like you planned. you’re keening as he kisses you, wet and nasty with so much tongue. your body jolts in his captivity when he raises and slams his hips into yours, getting rougher and faster every passing second. “shut up and lemme get you pregnant.”

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whereireid · 1 year

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𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄, 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄

pairing: miles quaritch x fem!reader | masterlist

Summary: You don't like Miles Quaritch, but that doesn't matter — because you love him.

— warnings: fluff + angst = declarations of love, star-crossed lovers. // nsfw content — f receiving only.

“Why don’t you want to be with me?”

Quaritch’s voice is quiet, his breath fanning against your neck as he speaks. His hands grip your shoulders, forcing your back against him. It’s almost pitiful how he’s knelt down to such an emasculating height, his lips pressing against your warm neck, hoping for you to indulge him for just a second.

You close your eyes. “I don’t like what you do,” you say weakly, your chest growing tight as he suckles softly against your skin.

“You don’t like what I do, or you don’t like how I do it?”

Miles Quaritch is not a nice man. He’s unnecessarily mean and grumpy, borderline sadistic — remorse or empathy is a foreign concept to him. The dead Colonel which lives within him is the reason why your pleas fall on death ears; he is stuck in an everlasting cycle of choosing his absolute authority over the blissful domesticity that you offer him.

“Maybe I just don’t like you.”

Quartich’s teeth nip at your shoulder, causing a whine to fall from your lips. “That’s mean,” he says, his hands cupping the curve of your thighs. “Ain’t no reason for you to be mean, sunshine.”

Warmth blazes within you as he beckons your legs apart. You feel trapped, the light, feathery feeling of his hands caressing your legs sending guilty sparks of desire flickering through you. His tongue gently laps at the mark he’s left at your neck, running over the crevices of the dips where his teeth had been. It pains, and you imagine he’s drawn blood, a soft hum rumbling against your skin as he runs his fingers along the inner skin of your thighs.

With a sigh slipping past your lips, you say, “I’m not mean. I’m just honest.”

“Why do you have to lie to yourself?” He says it less like a question, and more like an amused observation.

Conflict bubbles within you. You’re stuck in a predicament that has no immediate solution, the close proximity of Quaritch causing your morality to turn grey. “I’m not lying. I don’t like you,” you mumble, a quiet hiss catching in your throat as you feel his fingers glide over your clothed folds.

“Why not?”

His motions still. His breath is heavy against your neck, his tail thrashing behind him as he awaits your answer. You pause, the silence palpable and thick. You can list almost a thousand reasons as to why you don’t like him — because he’s mean and domineering, a sadist who gets off on other people’s pain.

None of that matters, though.

Those reasons don’t matter because you love him.

“You don’t want to know the answer,” your voice wobbles slightly as his nose nuzzles against your skin, and he breathes in your familiar, Earthy scent; magnolias and freshly-washed linen drowning him into a well-accustomed bliss.

Quaritch continues to kiss your neck. This time, his lips feel feathery, his pecks peppery and chaste. “I already know it,” he breathes, his persistent energy overwhelming as he gently slides your underwear to the side. “Trust me when I say, sunshine — I love you more.”

Like the aftermath of a gun going off, his confession rings in the air. Your chest grows tight, your heart hammering in your chest. You swallow, your throat dry. “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s true.” His fingers slide through the slickness that he cultivated, a soft coo of affection slipping past his lips and wafting against your neck as he basks in how wet and flush your cunt feels against him. “I love you more than anythin’. My sweet girl, don’t you know that by now?”

“Please stop saying that,” you plead, your voice wavering slightly as his fingers easily find your sensitive bundle of nerves. “It isn’t fair for you to say that.”

As he rolls the delicate nub between his fingers, you lose balance, pressing into his chest for support. It feels dirty and wrong that you’re allowing him to spark an insatiable desire within you, pleasure crackling through you like electricity as his lips drag along your neck, leaving soft, purple bruises in their wake.

“Work with me here, sunshine,” he drawls, his voice husky against his chest, and you whimper, trembling as you slowly open your legs for him. “That’s my good girl, so eager to please.”

You don’t like him. It’s impossible to like him, even when his fingers are causing pleasure to roll through you in stormy waves. Warmth burns inside of you, the gratification that the motion gives you painfully satisfying.

“You’re so mean.”

“I know, sunshine.” Quaritch’s voice sounds a little sad as he speaks, and your chest tightens as his fingers glide down your cunt, towards the entrance. “I’m sorry.”

Dumbly, you let out a soft moan, your walls clenching down around his fingers as they glide inside of your cunt. Your walls are tight and slick around him, inviting and warm, and you feel your knees buckle as his fingers curl.

Shaking your head, you breathe, “you’re not sorry; you never are.”

“I am, ‘specially if it means losing you if not.” Quaritch softly scissors your cunt, his fingers skilful as they work inside of you. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

“I didn’t happen to you.” You lax in his arms, your thighs burning as his motions grow slow and sensual, an unbelievable heat pulsing through you. “You sought me out.”

You can feel him smirk against your neck. “That’s right. You wanted me too, though, sunshine. You still do.”

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, his movements dangerously sluggish. You try not to moan, the sound of your bliss dying in your throat as his motions begin to cause your vision to glow black and starry. You stay lax against him, your legs trembling as he mumbles praise against the skin of your neck, and a soft cry is dragged from your throat as he finally draws out what he wants from you.

“Oh,” you mumble, your eyes screwing shut as the sound of your squelching cunt echoes around your bedroom, your wetness painting his knuckles as he continues his deliberately slow motions. “Oh.”

“That’s it,” Quaritch praises, his lips pressing heartily into the crook of your neck, his teeth grazing against your pulse point, “cum for me, sunshine.”

Unable to hold yourself up any longer, you collapse into him. Your heart feels tight in your chest, your throat dry as you gasp and writhe in his hold, but he keeps you still. There’s a comfort which mulls through you as he nuzzles against you, a soft purr vibrating against your neck as he feels you twitch around him.

When you finish twitching, Quaritch finally allows himself to pull away from you. He scans your frame, his eyes falling to the wet mess of your underwear, which is pooled around your ankles. A flash of sympathy glosses over his eyes, but he clears his throat. You don’t move, your breathing heavy, and he can’t tell if you’re angry or pleased. His lips tug into a frown as he wipes your slick, which had painted his blue fingers white, onto his cargo trousers — leaving the mess until later to clean.

His presence is overbearing, hot and cold all at once. You hear him stand, his boots padding against the floor as he hesitantly recedes from you, walking towards your bedroom door as a means to exit and leave you alone.

“Wait,” you say timidly, your heart hammering in your chest as you hear his movements still. “Just — just wait.”

You hear him stop. You hear him shuffle. You close your eyes. “Please don’t go,” you finally continue, your voice small and strained as you shakily intertwine your fingers together. “Please don’t leave me.”

There’s a beat of silence. Thick and tense. You wonder if the question fell on deaf ears, if he’d just leave you like he’s been known to do many times before.

The response you get it bittersweet. You don’t know if you truly want him here — you don’t know if you want him, but the feeling of his arms wrapping around you and pulling you against him has your heart fluttering in your chest. You stay with your back to him, your underwear still pooled by your ankles, your head resting against his crotch.

“It’s okay, sunshine.” Your throat grows tight and you swallow the lump in your throat as he speaks. “Let’s go to bed.”

Cocooning you into a bed of warmth, Quaritch’s fingers rest at your hips as you nuzzle against his chest. You don’t say anything, your body curled against his, listening to the rapid pitter-pattering of his heart.

You don’t like him. He’s cruel and callous, fighting for the wrong side of history. He’s awful; just awful, but it doesn’t matter, because he’s like that to everyone but you.

You don’t like him, but none of that matters, because you love him.

And you just can’t help it.

— tags: @clockmax @numarusworld @anoungsoneandonly

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bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky · 2 years

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You're My Mess | Bucky Barnes x Reader

Hi! This was a request from the always wonderful @the-kestrels-feather :)

Warnings: some blood / Bucky's injuries, ~nudity~ (but not smutty)

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A metallic scraping sound nearly scared you out of your skin. Maybe it was just noise from the street below. Maybe your weird neighbor was playing with his katana again. You pressed play on your paused tv show and tried to continue watching, but the sound persisted. It almost sounded like- was it coming from the front door?

In nothing but a pair of underwear and one of Bucky’s shirts, you tiptoed toward the peephole. It went against everything scary movies ever taught you. You can’t go investigate a strange noise. And you should never say “Who’s there?”- that’s how you end up dead. You wanted to make it to the end credits, but your many viewings of Scream clearly taught you nothing.

You held your breath as you peered through the peephole- if someone was here to kill you, you at least wanted to know who. And through the distorted lens, you saw a familiar face.

“Bucky!” you chirped as you threw open the door. Your hands were on him in seconds, grabbing his face and pulling him in for a long, long over-due kiss.

“Hey, baby…” he dropped his forehead against yours. God, he needed this. He needed you. And nothing welcomed him home quite like his best girl wearing his shirt.

He pulled you into his body with a groan and a grimace. He’d taken his fair share of beatings- and a few of Sam’s- on this mission, and his body hated him for it. Yes, the serum would have him good as new in no time. But it didn’t dull the pain. It couldn’t save him from the vibrating agony that pulsed with each beat of his heart. The throbbing inside his head. But he needed to hold you. He didn’t care that your elbow dug into his stab wound. He’d been gone too long. And with his arms wrapped tight around your body, every last ounce of anxiety dissipated.

“You okay, babe?” With your head pressed to his chest, you heard the pained sound rumble inside his body. It pinballed against his ribs and echoed under your ear. Bucky always came home a shell of himself. Empty. Hurting. It killed you.

“I’m good, just-“ he craned his neck back and forth, “sore. And tired. And I missed you."

He caught a glimpse of his dirty hand around your waist, and nearly recoiled. "Shit, sorry. I'm a mess. I shouldn't be-"

"But you're my mess. Come on, let’s get you inside, Sarge.”

You gently tugged him through the door and welcomed him into the warmth of the home you shared. He missed this space when he was away. The warm light, the shelves lined with classic books, the half-burned candles. This small apartment gave him a safe hideaway from the world that hated him, and shielded him with nothing but love and light.

“Here, I’ll take this…” you slid his bag from his shoulder and dropped it to the floor. “And this-” Your hands made quick work of his belt, removing it and its many sheathed knives. “You know, sometimes I can’t believe that you actually have a utility belt,” you laughed. “I mean, you’re like Bat Man… or Wonder Woman”.

Bucky gave you an affectionate eyeroll and a strained laugh.

“Oh, and I’ll take this too,” you said, unbuckling the holster from his thigh. You couldn’t believe they made holsters big enough to wrap around Bucky’s beefy quads. His ‘thighs of betrayal’, as you often called them.

“Alright, now come're,” you pulled him over to a kitchen chair and made him sit before sinking to your knees in front of him.

“Woah, woah, sweetheart,” Bucky teased, “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Oh, hush”, you stuck your tongue out at him. Truth be told, you’d been ready to jump his bones the moment you saw him. And wrapping your hands around his thigh to remove his holster had your mouth watering. But if he was hurting, if he was exhausted and depleted, your desperate lust for him could wait. He needed to heal before you replaced his stab wounds with bite marks and hickeys. You freed Bucky’s feet from his combat boots and made a move toward the shoe rack, but Bucky stopped you.

His hand darted out and hooked around your fingers, “don’t”.

“It’s okay, Buck. I’m just putting your boots away-”

“But- can you come here?”

He hated being needy. And clingy. And desperate. But after his time away, he needed you close by. He needed to make up for all the miserable days and cold nights spent without you. He needed his best girl.

With a gentle tug, he pulled you into his lap. His arms wrapped around you as you straddled his hips, locking your bodies together. He rested his chin on your shoulder. You pressed a kiss to his cheek. A deep sigh fell from Bucky’s chest. The fear dissipated. The dread fell away. And suddenly, it was just you. Just you and Bucky and the home you shared. He checked his ghosts at the door and fell into the peace you brought.

“I’m so glad to be back”

“And I’m so glad to have you, babe. I’m so- wait, hang on…” You pulled back a bit and met his eyeline. “Why’d you knock? Did you lose your keys?”

Bucky let out an exhausted laugh, “No…but they were in my bag. And I was too tired to look for them.” He let his head fall against your sternum. He could fall asleep like this. “I just wanna go get in bed and sleep for fifteen hours, or so.”

You wriggled free from his grasp and tried to pull him to his feet. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up, Sarge.”

But Bucky resisted. He almost didn’t have enough energy to stand, let alone shower. “But baaaaaby,” he whined, “I’m too tired”. His slumped shoulders and under eye circles told you as much. His mission was supposed to be four days- but he was gone for nine. Double the work, double the effort, double the fatigue.

“I know, Buck,” you said, cradling his face. “But you can't get in bed like this. Your hands are all covered in in gunpowder and there’s blood in your hair- blood I’m hoping doesn’t belong to you…?”

He nodded.

“I promise you’re gonna feel much better after a shower.”

He shrugged. He just wanted to crawl into bed with you- anything else was simply a distraction.

“It’ll be a lot easier to get the blood out of your hair if we do it now,” you said. “The longer we wait, the stickier it’s gonna get.” You could just see Bucky tomorrow morning, raking a comb furiously through his bloody hair and ripping it out at the root. “Okay, how about this: You stay here.” Bucky perked up. “I’ll go run a bath- that way you can relax a little bit and won’t have to stand in the shower?”

He thought it over for a moment. The idea enticed him, but didn’t convince him.

“And I’ll join you. I’ll help you get cleaned up. I can take care of all this…” you grabbed at a few strands of his hair. “And I’m sure you’ve got some wounds that need cleaning. Deal?”

You knew Bucky’s injuries couldn’t get infected, but leaving them unattended felt neglectful. Regardless of the serum, he needed care. And you needed him to know how much he meant to you. After each mission, you cleaned and bandaged his fast-healing wounds. You gently freed them of debris and broken glass, checked on them until the serum made them vanish.

Although unnecessary, it showed Bucky just how important he was to you, how highly you valued his well-being. Before you, he didn’t care to disinfect or cover his injuries- he let himself bleed.

Bucky didn’t hear anything after you promised to join him in the bath. His desire for sleep vanished, revealing an even deeper need: you. Your body against his. Your hands in his hair. Of course, he’d thought about fucking you since the moment he left- but this was different. He needed to feel you. To know you were there. To hear your steady heartbeat. Each new mission brought with it the fear that he’d never see you again. And it scared him more than any Hydra agent ever could. It was a fate worse than death.

Bucky nodded against your hand, his stubble scratching your palm.

“Okay, you sit tight. I’m gonna go start the water.” You made an attempt to get up, but Bucky wasn’t having it. He refused to let you go for another few minutes, and you let him take his time. Coming down from a mission was hard on him. You moved at his pace.

When he allowed you to get up, you headed for the bathroom and filled the tub with water. Bucky remained in his chair, exactly where you left him. He felt himself nodding off a few times, but refused to plunge into full-blown sleep. He found himself teetering on the edge once again when you called to him.

“Ready whenever you are, Sarge!”

You padded toward him, your clothes missing, and found him blinking away sleep. “Come on, I promise this won’t take long.”

At the sight of you, Bucky perked up. “I mean, if it takes a long time, it takes a long time…” he said, making grabby hands for your waist, “who am I to rush you?”

“You’re a fiend, you know that?”

“I know. But I’m your fiend.”

With his hand in yours, you dragged him in the direction of the bathroom. A pitstop at the laundry room let Bucky shed his bloody clothes, giving you the chance to lay eyes on his body. You still weren’t used to his Adonis-esque physique. And you knew you never would be. But the blood and bruising distracted you. Red slash marks ripped across his abdomen. Purple bruises stained his shoulder. A bloody stab wound dug into his chest. And his back was just as bad.

“I know it looks bad…” he said, “but I’m fine. I promise.”

Bucky’s definition of “fine” never quite matched up with yours. And seeing him hurt never got easier. You swallowed the lump in your throat and ushered him down the hall.

He grimaced as the hot water met the gashes littering his legs, but the stinging subsided when you stepped into the tub. Or maybe his open wounds still throbbed in the scalding water- he wasn’t sure. He was too distracted by you pulling him into your body. His shoulders rested against your chest and his head fell back against your shoulder, his nose brushing along your neck.

“Is that even comfortable?” you laughed, “looks kinda like you’re gonna have a crick in your neck by the time we’re done here.”

He took a deep inhale. And let out a long sigh. “Don’t care. Missed you.”

“Missed you more”.

You let him rest like that for a while, let him drink in the feeling of home. But you watched the water slowly redden, like you were steeping raspberry tea. “Okay, babe. We gotta get to work”, you said, forcing Bucky to sit upright. He watched you loosen the drain and run more water until the red tinge vanished. But he knew it would return soon enough.

“Just tell me if I hurt you, okay?”

He nodded. And you got to work. You let your hands weave slowly in and out of his locks, gently scrubbing and massaging his scalp with shampoo. He didn’t like putting you in this sort of position, but couldn’t stop himself from enjoying the feeling. He’d missed you so much. He thought about you constantly and ached for your touch. And even though the two of you sat chest-deep in blood-stained bath water, he smiled. He hummed in approval every now and then. He leaned into your touch. He felt safe.

Coagulated pieces of dried blood fused his strands together. You cringed when they plopped into the water. Every time you pulled your hands from his locks, a red stain smeared across your palms. Lathering and rinsing and re-lathering Bucky’s hair dyed the water crimson. And you feared it would never end. He’d loosen the drain, let the tub empty, and fill it again- only for the sickly scarlet tinge to return. You’d promised to do this for him, but it seemed as though you’d run out of shampoo before fulfilling your promise.

Just as you used the last bit of shampoo, your hands returned from his scalp without a bloody stain. You dragged your nails across his scalp and inspected every last strand, finding no blood in sight. Finally.

“Hair’s all clean,” you said, “now just let me condition”. Bucky gave a small nod, too tired and entranced by your scalp massage to really listen.

And when you finished with his hair, you moved to his body. Both of you sat stewing in a bio-hazard of blood and grime- it almost made you sick. Breaking your promise, you made Bucky stand and take a proper shower. He groaned as you helped him up, but found his smile again as you pressed your body against his. Your hands worked over him slowly, ridding his battered body of gun powder and ash and dried blood. You helped him feel like a new man.

And then it was your turn. Guilt soured Bucky’s experience when he noticed your blood-stained nails and red-streaked body. And he was determined to make it right. Just as you’d done for him, he carefully dragged his hands over every inch of your skin. He was thorough- maybe a bit too thorough- but couldn’t resist touching you. And you’d never protest.

“You hang right here for a sec,” you said, “I’m gonna go grab us some clothes-”

“I mean, do we really need clothes?” He shot you a tired wink. Even exhausted, this man was a menace.

“I mean, no. We don’t need clothes,” you dropped your towel. “But you do need some bandages.”

Bucky sat on the edge of the tub while you carefully cleaned and covered his wounds. He never protested when you played doctor. Sure, it was more work for you. But he knew it made you feel good to take care of him. And it made him feel good to know how much you cared.

“All done,” you admired your work with a satisfied sigh. “Let’s get you to bed, babe.”

Bucky followed you like a lost puppy, nearly stepping on your heels as he walked. This was the moment he’d been waiting for since the second he left. And as he collapsed into bed next to you, he finally felt at peace.

“Can I…?” he asked, motioning for your chest.

“I’d be upset if you didn’t.”

With that, Bucky rested his head on your chest. His wet hair sent goosebumps flooding across your skin, but you didn’t care. You stroked his back and left kisses against his scalp, whispering ‘I love you’s every now and then. He returned each and every one. His arms wrapped tighter around you, as though he feared you’d disappear.

“Go to sleep, Buck. I know you’re exhausted.”

“I know, I’m just-” a yawn interrupted him. “I just missed you.”

“And I missed you. But I promise I’ll still be here in the morning.” You pressed another kiss to the top of his head, “rest, baby.”

He took a few more seconds to drink in the environment: your warm body under his, the cozy blankets, the smell of your shampoo in his hair. And with his last conscious breath, he told you once more just how much he’d missed you.

————————————

Tag list: @beefybuckrrito @shadytalementality @everything-burns-down @rainbow-unicorn-pony @mandersshow @breakablebarnes @psychoticmason @glxwingrxse @deepsketchsupernaturalcowboy @mrsdrysdale18 @lonewolf471 @dreamerglassesgirl @the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned @purpleshallot @duchessoftheheart @seitmai @itvy5601 @hisxsoulmate @dailyreverie @navs-bhat @eviesaurusrex @themorningsunshine @masteroflightningz @evangeliamerryll @god-ofthunder @broadwaybabe18 @the-kestrels-feather @avocadotoastwithegg @goldylions @lokisasgardianvampirequeen

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thetarttfuldickhead · 3 months

Text

If When Jamie is named England’s captain a few years from now and he’s asked about inspirational figures and captain role models, he will not stop singing Isaac’s praises. Just, the way Isaac runs a tight ship and won’t tolerate any nonsense but always has their backs and makes sure there’s a lot of fun, too, silly stuff that keeps the team close and happy and mutually supportive; keeps them feeling like family, almost. It’s Ted’s heritage, the seeds Ted planted, but Isaac’s nurtured and sustained them, tended to the garden and kept it in bloom, and added some vibrant saplings of his own.

Jamie probably names a couple of other people too, whoever was in charge when he played for Man City, someone from his academy days or England’s under-21s, people like that.

He doesn’t mention Roy. And no one asks about it, and no one thinks anything of it—

—except for Roy, who watches the interview with Keeley curled up against his side on their couch and who notices the omission with a wild jumble of hurt and wounded pride and shame and jealousy (all mixed up with the shocking, burning pride he feels for Jamie, England’s captain, fucking hell).

Because Roy knows he wasn’t a great captain for Richmond, yeah, and was a horrible captain for Jamie (though to be fair, Jamie was a horrible person to captain, and Isaac isn’t likely to have been able to handle him at full-on prick either, only Roy’s not fantastic at being fair to himself, so), but he’s still Roy fucking Kent, the best on any team he’s ever been on and Jamie’s fucking childhood idol and his fucking everything now, so to have the little prick not even mention him…

He sulks. He tries not to, because he knows it’s silly and it’s Jamie’s big day, isn’t it, and Roy’s not going to ruin it by having A Feeling, but the feeling(s) persist and he walks through the afternoon with his scowl several shades darker than normally.

“What’s the matter, babe?” Keeley asks, and Roy’s long since given up trying to bullshit her so he spills. Keeley nods and listens and gives him a hug and a kiss and tells him that yeah, you’re gonna need to let that go or actually talk to Jamie about it, because she has long since taken a stand on not sorting their shit out for them.

And she has a thing with Rebecca that afternoon (only it’s the first Roy’s ever heard of it, so he can’t help but wonder if she had a thing with Rebecca prior to Roy’s confession), so when Jamie gets home, bouncing through the door like a puppy on speed, it’s just Roy there to greet him and tell him how amazing he is and yes, of course Roy watched the announcement, your hair looked fucking fine, yes, Keeley saw it too, no, don’t worry, she’s just out for coffee, she’ll be back for dinner and let you know how very impressed she is, and it’d be easy to just let it lie, put the lingering regret away and bask in Jamie’s joy, but they’d said they’d try not do that anymore, not cover stuff up when there’s the chance they might fester, so when Jamie furrows his brow and cocks his head to the side and asks if he’s okay, Roy takes a deep breath:

“It fucking hurt my feeling when you didn’t mention me, when they asked about captains that have inspired you,” he says, and then adds before Jamie can reply, “I know why you didn’t and that’s… that’s fucking fair, innit, but. It also made me wish that I’d been. Better. A better captain. For you.”

“Yeah,” Jamie says after a long, silent moment. He’s wearing that slightly blank look he adopts whenever someone’s caught him by surprise and he’s trying to figure out how to react. “Um. Sometimes I wish I’d been less of a prick, too, you know.”

Roy nods. He knows. And it’s not absolution, and it neither erases or rewrites any of their past mistakes, but it eases the ache in Roy’s chest all the same.

“We’re better now,” he offers, to Jamie, to himself.

“Yeah,” Jamie agrees with a small sigh. He grabs hold of Roy’s hand, tugging him along as he sits down on the couch, and then he curls up against Roy’s side, same as Keeley did just hours ago. “You’re a great fucking coach, though” he tells Roy seriously. “Me favourite, swear down.”

Roy snorts a laugh as he puts an arm around Jamie. “Better fucking be, considering how many blowjobs I’ve given you this week alone.”

“Mm, fucking mint, those,” Jamie agrees thoughtfully, then jabs a finger in Roy’s side. “Oi, this is the part where you tell me I’m your favourite player.”

And oh. That’s perfect, innit. “You’re not my favourite player,” Roy says, carefully not looking at Jamie.

The noise Jamie makes are equal parts disbelieving and outraged. “Um, excuse me, mate?”

“You’re not,” Roy insists, feeling a smile tug at his lips as he innocently adds, “It’s probably Isaac.”

And Jamie huffs a laugh against his neck. And Jamie says you’re an arsehole. And Jamie says you’re me favourite arsehole, though.

You’re me favourite everything, man.

And Roy holds him tight and breathes him in and, for the moment, believes him.

#huh #that got away from me #have a sudden sunday ficlet i guess?#jamie tartt #roy kent #keeley jones #isaac mcadoo #royjamiekeeley #ficlet #my stuff

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horseshoegirl · 7 months

Text

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 21 - My Fair Lady

📜 Merry Christmas, you filthy animals! 😏😂

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, reunions, sexual themes (I mean smut, so get out of here if you ain't +18, I mean it!!!), they finally do it! (first times, nakedness, sex, all that jazz --> So yes, that is a spoiler!).

#10k words (this one is long, and I'm not apologizing for it, LOL)

Part 20 | Masterlist | Part 22

With Sadie away at camp, you finally got the time and the opportunity to surprise her and redo your guest room into her room.

The house was a mess. Boxes of new furniture waiting to be built: a desk, a bookcase, a new bedframe. Her mattress slanted against the hallway. Old white sheets covered every inch of the floor and things that could not be moved.

You'd taken the shade off one of the bedside table lamps and stuck it in the corner of the room, its soft, warm light guiding you as you stood on a ladder, carefully stroking a painter's brush covered in green paint just below the edge of the ceiling, balancing the paint bucket on the top step.

The problem you had with projects like these was that you didn't really know when to stop. Staring when it was still light out, nothing but music playing softly through the speakers from your vinyl player, it was well past 2 AM before you knew it.

At least this passion project was one of the few things keeping you from obsessively worrying about Jake. And Bradley.

The static noise popping through your speakers was a welcome relief for your neck. With one last paint stroke, you climbed down the ladder, picturing your records and what one you could put on next. You bit your lip, reaching up to grab the bucket and the lid from the top step, covering it and hitting it closed with a thump.

You knelt next to the crate, searching for the record you had in mind when a persistent knock at your front door startled you. You weren't expecting anyone, let alone in the witching hours of the early morning.

Everything that happened with Tyler left you weary. Every white car you passed on the street made your skin crawl, and when Penny finally re-opened the Hard Deck and you returned to work, each time the door swung open in a dramatic fashion, you half expected to see Tyler standing there, a predatory glare in his eyes.

People also had a habit of knocking on your door late at night to deliver bad news. But something told you you needed to answer it anyway.

You slowly tip-toed down your hallway, plastering yourself to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight of whoever knocked on your door before peering through the peephole. Shocked to see the person pacing back and forth along your front porch, you whipped the door open.

"Alyssa?"

She stopped pacing, twisting her body towards the sound of your voice.

As long as you knew her, Lyssa had never once cried in front of you or came close to being visibly upset. She was direct, used humour in the most inappropriate moments, and always played things close to the chest. To see her face, beat red and tears streaming down her face, you couldn't help your unease.

Something had to be seriously wrong.

"Is Will okay?" you asked her. "What's' wrong?"

She shook her head, stepping in front of you. "Um, no, he's okay. We need to get down to Top Gun. Now."

"Top Gun? It's almost three in the morning."

She shook her head again. "Will's father got word an aircraft carrier got caught in a hurricane somewhere overseas. It sunk. They're bringing in the survivors now."

Heart dropping into your stomach, your legs wobbled. You fell against your door frame, hands gripping the wood tight enough to hurt. Your throat was screaming at you, and you couldn't swallow.

There was only one other time you could compare to how you were feeling now.

Friday nights were the worst fucking days of your life.

"Please don't tell me..." you croaked. "Please don't tell me it was theirs."

You gripped Jake's dog tags tight as you caught her harsh gulp, her face remaining stark. She didn't say anything. Not that she needed to. The very fact she was on your doorstep told you everything you needed to know.

She wouldn't have come to get you otherwise.

"Come on, we need to go," she managed to say through a harsh swallow.

You don't know how you managed to loosen your grip on your door frame or how you laced your shoes without screwing up the knots. Or how you got your key in the lock with your shakey hand.

You don't know how you got into the passenger seat of Alyssa's car, either. Or how you managed to put your seat belt on or not throw up as she sped out of your driveway and down to the highway.

A small part of you whithers when you realize you wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been here, hadn't Alyssa's Ex caught wind of it. Nat, Bob, and the rest of the daggers would have, too, eventually, but they probably wouldn't have been informed until it was too late.

You don't even know what's waiting for you at Top Gun, whether both Jake and Bradley were or weren't there. Or only one of them. Or if they would even let you in.

The gates were open to the facility when the two of you arrived. Lyssa followed several cars that were already pulling into the winding entrance, the line starting to build as more and more started to appear from the opposite direction. You leaned forward in your seat as she pulled into the parking lot, your heart in your throat as you tried to see behind the building to the runway. All you saw were blinking red and white lights against the night sky.

Alyssa hadn't even moved the parking brake when you threw yourself out of her car, not bothering to wait for her. The cool night wind bit at your face as you searched the building, looking for any indication they were letting people in. You spied a group of people charging across the parking lot to an open side door, someone in dress kaki's manning it. You followed them, skidding across the pavement as you reached the door, trying not to run anyone over and barrel through the crowd.

Cyclone saw you before you saw him, shouting out your full name amongst the chaos to urge you to the front to let you in with the next group. The words spill out of your mouth before you realize you're saying them. "Do you know if...?"

He shook his head. "If they did, they'll be on the next plane that came in."

A million thoughts skitter through your mind, like spiders across a floor, yet you push them aside.

"I have a friend, Lyssa. Let her in next."

He nodded without complaint, knocking hard on the door to let the group in.

Whether it was the threat of being yelled at for running or that they were inside the famous Navy facility, nobody moved quicker than a brisque walk.

You'd take on any military officer who would dare yell at you for the way you tried to weave in and out of the throngs of people.

The hallway you were guided down led to a hanger. The space had been turned into a temporary relief centre, with tables, cots, and supplies filling every inch. Medics were already helping a few of the officers who looked worse for wear, and dread filled you each time you spun, another injured officer upon another.

You weren't sure you were relieved or scared with each face you saw. Whatever they had to go through to get here, one thing was for certain. They had to do so in a rush.

You halted when you spotted the large military-like plane Cyclone spoke about sitting on the runway in the distance, viewable from the wide open door. Whether it had been there before or it had just arrived, you didn't know. Nor did you question it any further. The only thing that mattered was if Jake and Bradley were on that plane.

But with each group of people that passed, there was no sign of them.

Alyssa finally caught up to you, grabbing your arms from behind and tugging you backwards. "Liz," she started to say, but you tore out of her grasp.

"We didn't have time. We didn't have time," you said repeatedly, threading your fingers through your hair next to your temples. Alyssa reached out again, this time turning you by your raised elbows as you continued to force yourself to breathe. She pushed, and you slowly lost your hold on your roots, lowering your arms until she was grasping at your hands.

"I didn't want to tell him I loved him over a letter. I didn't want our last words to each other to be over a piece of paper," you cried out, trying to tug away. She didn't let go, her grip tight. It made you sob harder.

"I can't go through this again! Not with them, not with him. Not after everything Sadie and I have ever suffered through. It's too much, Alyssa!" you were on the verge of screaming. "We've been through enough!"

Lyssa opened her mouth, words just barely sounding out before her eyes locked on to something behind you. She gasped, and you twisted sharply, watery eyes searching a new crowd of officers making their way off the tarmac and into the hanger. You squinted your eyes, the night sky and the bright white lights from inside making it harder to make out faces.

A cluster of Navy officers broke off from the crowd, parting the way.

Then you saw them.

Both of them.

Jake was favouring a leg as he leaned against Bradley for support, hobbling along as they finally reached the entrance to the hanger, searching for a temporary cot. Even at a distance, you could make out a cut framing his eye, and one side of his face was bruised.

But he was here. He was whole.

He was alive.

You couldn't help it. You charged forward, no feeling in your legs as you zoomed past other families and officers, probably a few high-ranking officials in your paint-smattered shirt and overalls. Time slowed down for you as you ran, even if you were running as if your life depended on it.

"JAKE!"

Jake lifted his head at the sound of your voice, urging Bradley to stop. Bradley looked at him funny, watching his eyes glaze over and wondering if Jake hit his head harder than the medics originally thought. But then he followed his gaze, only to see you charging forward without a care in the world to reach him, and he knew.

Bradley unhooked his arm from around Jake's shoulders, steadying him for a second and then letting go, stepping to the side so you could have your moment.

You slid along the floor as you came to a halt in front of Jake, worried he was more damaged than you could see, arms reaching for him. Jake bracketed his arms tightly around your back the second you touched him, and you buried your face into his shoulder. He grunted as he pulled you tight, shoving his nose into your collarbone.

Jake smelt of the sea, of gasoline and sweat. His flight suit felt ripped under your hands as you tried to find a grip. Or maybe you were trying to assure yourself he was really there. Your mind flashed through all the possible things he might have gone through with each caress, your cries getting louder with each one.

Yet in your panic, you pulled back from his hug, only to take his face into your hands and kiss him hard.

"I love you," you gasped out between kisses. "I'm not getting you go. I'm here. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Jake's response was instant, fingers quickly gripping the back of your neck, the roots of your hair, to drive your head at all the angles he wanted, all the ways that made it easier for him to devour you.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, pulling away from his lips with a tightness in your chest. Your eyes fell on his lips, red and slightly swollen, and you were positive yours were the same. Until you looked up at those green eyes and the rest of the hanger, everyone else, faded away.

Jake smiled at you.

"Hi, Darlin.'"

You huffed a sad laugh through your tears, letting yourself fall into his body, hiding your face in his chest, sobbing.

Jake didn't let the grip on your neck go, curving his hand against the skin, holding you to him. His other arm, at some point, had dropped down to your waist. Whether it was to keep himself upright or keep you from falling over, he wasn't sure. Nor did he really care. Because Jake was pressing his mouth into your hair and closing his eyes to relish the feel of you in his arms.

He was home.

You turned your head against his chest to look over at Bradley, slightly surprised to see him hugging Alyssa. Her forehead was leaning against her hands, currently shaped into a triangle against his chest. She was shaking with silent sobs as Bradley hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The panic you felt before settles in your chest, warmth wrapping around your rib cage. As if he felt your eyes on him, Bradley opened his eyes, resting his cheek atop her head. You reached out, Bradley instantly extending his arm to grasp your hand. You smiled sadly at him with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes, squeezing his hand before burying your head back into Jake's chest, not once letting go.

Feeling you move against him, Jake lifted his head, catching your hand holding Bradley's. He found Bradley looking at the two of you with a smile, in a similar position, with Alyssa wrapped around him.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Rooster?" he said, eyes gesturing to Alyssa. You shook with silent laughter against his chest.

Bradley smiled at you, at Jake, before closing his eyes and letting his lips graze Alyssa's forehead. "Is that any way to speak to your saviour?"

There was no malice in Jake's words when he dropped his head back down to press a kiss into your hair, flippantly shooting back, "Don't push it, Bradshaw. I'm still ahead by one."

---

The ride home had been quiet.

After some harsh convincing by you and Alyssa, Jake and Bradley were allowed to leave. You had gotten the run down by one of the medical officers about Jake. He had no concussion and no broken bones but had ended up with quite a large amount of water in his lungs and a significant amount of bruising the days before.

You caught snippets of Rooster's conversation with the medics, enough to know what happened. You didn't want to know the deeper details unless Jake wanted to talk to you about it. Knowing he almost drowned and Bradley had saved him was enough.

He wasn't at risk of a secondary drowning, but more so pneumonia or an Edema. You'd be calling an ambulance at the first sign of a cough.

Bradley was helping Jake up the steps of your front porch as you went ahead and unlocked your door. Lyssa spotted Jake from below, hands out and ready. Despite her tiny frame, she was there, ready to catch him should he need help.

You were quietly surprised to see Bradley being the one to help Jake. You knew it wouldn't have been easy for either of them: Jake, who didn't want to need to accept the help at all, and Bradley, for whom he was helping.

But once Jake cleared the last step and straightened himself, he patted Bradley on the shoulder, murmuring a 'Thanks, Rooster' before limping over to you.

You looked up at him with a smile, cocking the side of your head in Bradley's direction before saying, "I'll meet you inside?"

Jake nodded, then nodded once to Rooster before continuing inside. Lyssa had walked off back to her car around the same time, leaving only you and Bradley standing alone on your porch. You pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Bradley. For saving his life."

Rooster stiffened at your touch but slowly relaxed, arms coming up to wrap around your back. "I know it's not worth much, but I'm truly sorry Lizzie," he murmured. "For all of it."

You shook your head against his shoulder, murmuring a low "Don't," but Bradley pressed on.

"I've been an ass since the start. I've been the one doing all the things I said Jake would do," he said next to your ear, refusing to let you go. "I think I was more worried about being replaced.. and everything else... I just didn't want to see you and the bug getting hurt. The rule was to put Sadie first. Instead, I was the one doing all that. He really does care about the two of you despite some of his faults."

You pulled back from the hug but still left your hand on his shoulder, wiping at your eyes. "Can I ask what made you change your mind?"

Bradley gave a fond look, and you could only stare at him for a second before a smile shot across your face. "Sadie?"

You had wondered what she had scribbled in that letter. She was shifty about it, too, refusing to let you see anything anytime you walked by.

Something told you you'd never know.

Rooster grinned. "Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Her and the fact, this one saved me yet again. Then gave me a heart attack."

You smiled, looking back at your open door. "I'd like to think he was giving you the chance to make it up to us."

Bradley dropped his chin to his chest, still smiling, before he looked over to Alyssa, leaning against the driver's side of her car.

"Call me if you need help?" he offered, stepping forward to place a hand on your forearm before turning to proceed down your front steps.

"I think we'll be okay," you replied softly, not really caring if he heard you, still staring at your front door.

---

The tension inside the house hit you like a wave the second you closed the door. It was just Jake and you now, and despite everything that transpired the past few hours, you felt nervous.

Looking down, you spied Jake's boots neatly lined up next to some of yours, making you wonder how he managed to get them off. It made you undo your laces slowly, tactically, as if to stall time.

Something about standing here made everything more real.

There was also the bit about you sending him that partial nude. And that letter - which you weren't as concerned about. But that damn photo, all inspired by a moment of brevity, had you yelling to yourself, what the hell did I just do? when you dropped it off at Penny's.

You couldn't worry about the shame currently building in the pit of your stomach. You had to press on.

Jake was hurt. He needed you.

“Jake?” you called out softly, not expecting to find him hunched over, leaning against the wall of your hallway, facing you. You held out your hands, ready to grab him and support him. That was until he sharply lifted his head, eyes the only thing you could truly make out in the dim lighting, the dawn just peeking through your windows. You froze, lowering them, your voice stuck in your throat. Those eyes were challenging you to move, daring you to escape, to make a sound in the dead silence that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. With the predatory glint in his eyes, you knew right away what he wanted to talk about.

Yet, Jake is the one to break the silence first.

"Where's Sadie?"

"Camp."

You feel like you've just given him the green light for something with those words. He seemed to know it, too.

"What can I do to help you?" the question comes out more quietly than you were anticipating.

Jake straightens himself with a groan but doesn't remove his eyes from you. On the contrary, they are still sharp and as intense as when he first saw you.

"Liz," he spoke lowly.

He takes a step forward. You take one back.

"I think you know the answer to that."

"Do I?" you breathe out, taking another step, and he stalks forward as much as he is able.

He nods once. "I got your letter. And your photo."

Your back hits the wall - you can go no further.

It's not as if you couldn't escape him or tell him to stop. Jake is pinning you with his eyes as he approaches you and cages you against the wall. You know if you told him to stop, that all this was too much, he'd back away.

You don't want him to, though.

"Darlin," he roughs out, a hand reaching for your hip, his mouth next to your ear. "I've thought of nothing else."

Your trembling, heaving though no sound is coming out. You knew Jake was tall, muscled, and built like a freaking horse. It's stupid how the thought crosses your mind once again. You feel small against him, pressed up against the wall.

"I take it you liked it?"

You have no idea where this courage is coming from.

"Liked it?" he pressed a kiss on your neck below your ear. "I got hard just looking at it."

You title your head back against the wall; eyes closed, an arm coming up to wrap around his neck as Jake continues to press small kisses into your skin, slowly starting to add his teeth. An arm shoots around your waist, tugging you into him, and you gasp, racking up the wall with the movement.

"Jake," you gasped to the ceiling, digging your fingers into his hair. He winced against your neck with a groan, pausing. You wondered if you had accidentally injured him more. Because as much as Jake was desperately trying to merge himself into your skin, as much as he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, how much he wanted you, he was utterly exhausted.

And he was hurt.

"There's nothing more I want than to be with you right now," you said calmly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, sobering the moment. "But you're exhausted. And hurt, Jake. When was the last time you slept? "

Jake sighed into your neck, weight sagging with him, "Only a few minutes on the flight home. Not sure when before that."

It was true. Bradley had managed to resurface with him strung across his back, carrying Jake the rest of the way up that stairwell. His memory was fractured into bits and pieces of moments when he opened his eyes. Him being carried on a stretcher, Rooster sitting next to him in a med tent, voices yelling, and people poking and prodding at him. The flight home was when he really started to get his memory back, but he didn't dare fall back asleep, wondering if it had all been a dream and he really did die back there.

You frowned. "Let me take care of you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Pressing a long kiss on his cheek, you carefully untangled yourself from his hold, sliding down the wall. Hooking your arm around his waist, you led him down your hall to your bathroom. Jake's grip on your body was anchored tight. Hand threaded through the opposite pocket of your overalls, a part of him always touching you.

Leaving him to lean against your bathroom counter, you spun to turn on the shower, ensuring the water was okay before coming to stand in front of him once more. Resting your hands on his chest, you toyed with the zipper of his damaged flight suit.

"Do you need help?" you asked him softly.

He knew he could manage without you, even with his back being out of sorts. Yet, he still softly replied, "Go ahead."

You ranked your eyes over the fabric as you pulled down the tab of his zipper. His suit was ripped in some places, and large chunks were torn out, revealing the black tank he was wearing underneath. The zippers of the side pockets were misaligned, and while both of his patches were still intact, the threads were sticking out around the borders, making them unusable.

You made a note in the back of your mind to steal them the second you could.

Once the zipper reached the end, you moved both of your hands down to his chest, taking both sides and pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

Yet you stilled when you felt something hard in one of the pockets, instantly unfolding the fabric and unzipping the pocket, Jake watching you with hooded eyes. You pulled out a water-tight bag, gasping when you saw your letter and the various polaroids through the clear material.

"You.. You saved them?"

Jake let go of your hips to shrug the piece of clothing off, freeing his arms. He placed one hand on your hip, the other taking the bag from you, holding them.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jake's voice was quiet.

You felt a lump in your throat, tracing the bag in his hands. You were curious to know which one is the cockpit photo, but you also know your spontaneous, risky shot is also in with them. It's not that you didn't regret it, nor did Jake's enthusiastic reaction deter you, but you still felt that little bit of shame and embarrassment knowing the physical proof still existed.

"I... I didn't think they would mean that much to you. It was just a thing Sadie and I did so you wouldn't feel left out," you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

"They were all I had of you and Sadie out there."

It guts you, the simplicity of such a statement, yet packed with so much meaning.

Jake placed the bag behind him on the counter, ready to resume his grip on your body. Except his eyes caught sight of the pieces of metal dangling over the front of your chest, and he reached out to take his Dog Tags into the palm of his hand.

"You're wearing them."

You followed the chain to stare at the two pieces of metal. Your reply was soft, "I rarely took them off."

He didn't need to know about your breakdown. Not yet. You had said enough in your letter for him to know you had done what you needed to do, but he didn't need to know about the events that led up to it.

That was a conversation for another day.

Jake sighed, letting them drop back down in between the two of you, hand curving around your hip and pressing his forehead to yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until you felt him fiddling with the clasp on your hip, never fully releasing it from its hold.

He didn't need to voice it for you to know the question behind the action. It was clear as day as to what he was asking of you.

Will you join me?

Remember all those times over the past year you told yourself to fuck it? This was definitely getting added to all those other times.

Because you found yourself reaching down to your side and finishing the job, releasing the button from his hold. You felt Jake's breath against your mouth, warm and wet, as he slid his hand up to one of the front clasps, popping the buttons out of the hooks as he tugged, repeating the process with the other.

The two straps fell down your back, and you held your arms up in a silent invitation. Jake seemed to hold his breath as he pulled at your battered shirt, up over your head, to reveal your bare breasts.

He tossed your shirt to the side in the general direction of your laundry basket, but you didn't take your eyes off his to find out if it hit its mark. You feel no shame as he dropped his gaze. He's seen them before, kissed them, touched them. But the way his eyes rake over them makes it seem like it's the first time he has.

But when you reach for his black tank, pulling at the hem to work it over his body, you catch the view of his back in your mirror and let out a terrifying gasp.

His back is one big purple bruise, marring his skin. It spread from the curve of his right shoulder blade, sinking its way across his spine and ending near his hip. The only comparison you could draw to it was a painter's palette of cool colours mixed in with black. Whatever he had hit, it was clear the impact had been severe.

"Jake," you cry out, stepping to the side so you can turn him and see the damage for yourself, not in some reflection.

"How bad is it? The medics told me it's there."

"It's not pretty."

It was the most accurate statement you could give him without wanting to double or even triple-check the work of the medics on him. He let you investigate the bruised skin for a few seconds more before moving out of your grasp and facing you.

"Come on," he uttered. "Let's get under the water."

You quickly removed the rest of your clothing, letting the rest of your overalls and underwear fall to the floor, using your toes to work off your socks. Jake managed to get the remainder of his flight suit off with little struggle, boxers included.

You weren't ashamed of your body. But you were a little apprehensive, letting Jake see everything in its entirety. It makes you step into the shower first, almost as if you were trying to run away.

All this is new to you. And the internal battle currently raging on in your head was making you hesitant. Because even standing here, naked in your shower, Jake's eyes ranking over you like you were his last meal from behind the glass door, you still fought with yourself not to look at him.

But let's be real. You were a virgin, new to all of this.

You definitely looked.

And tried to mute the squeal that was trying to crawl its way out of your throat as you turned to let the running water hit your face. You could hear Jake's warm chuckle from behind you as he stepped into the boxed space.

"Like what you see?" he spoke lowly into your ear, dragging your back to rest against his front by your elbows.

"I'm not going to answer that question. 'Cause we both know if I do, it's going to lead to something."

You could feel all his ridges and sharply defined muscles against your back, and it took you everything not to mould yourself into him. Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, before resting his cheek against yours. "And what would that be?"

"Jake..." you warned, your voice slightly shakey.

"Not tonight," he replied, dragging his hands up your arms. "I just wanted to see how far that blush of yours goes."

"Oh, you kinky.." but he didn't let you finish, catching your mouth in an opened-mouth kiss. You moaned, tilting your head back before turning to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You released his lips to glaze up into his eyes, taking the moment to assure yourself yet again he was here with you. You matched his soft smile before he zoned in on your cheek, reaching up to thumb the skin. His face was hardened in concentration, no doubt rubbing at a stroke of paint you'd accidentally marked yourself with, working to get it off. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"What's this from?"

"I'm painting Sadie's room, trying to make it more hers as a Birthday gift."

Jake hummed.

The two of you continued to shower together, you mostly helping Jake. You tried not to get too caught up in staring at him, biting your lip in concretion as you rubbed body wash over him. You felt his eyes on your face the entire time, and you tried to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him.

Jake made you spin around to face the showerhead to return the favour. Feeling his hands caress your skin, letting him work the soap under the swells of your breast, along your arms, even down the panel of your stomach, you had to fight the arousal pooling in between your legs.

Not to mention, you could feel him growing hard and heavy against your lower back.

"This isn't fair. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you," you murmured, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

He pressed a delicate kiss to your collarbone. "This is taking care of me."

You ended up getting out first, picking up each of your discarded clothing, throwing them in the basket, and reaching for the towels you kept on the makeshift shelf on your wall as Jake finished with his hair. You saw the frown on his face when he stepped out, and you rolled your eyes affectionately at him, handing him a towel.

Helping him to your room, you left him to sit on the corner of your bed. You rummaged through your top drawer, pulling out the pair of his boxers you had accidentally missed when you packed up his bag. You found them on the day you were getting things ready to visit Ridley.

He took them without a word while you pulled on your sleep shirt and underwear, ironically the same baggy nightshirt you wore the night of that damn thunderstorm where he kissed you.

Climbing into your bed, you held up your comforter as an invitation. He fell face-first into your chest with an aching groan, grabbing your sides to pull himself half on top of you, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck.

Your suspicions from before are finally confirmed. Because even as he held you, Jake was desperately fighting sleep.

Pressing a delicate kiss to the cut on his cheek, you grazed your lips up until you could press them just below his hairline, your fingers threading themselves soothingly through his hair.

"Go to sleep," you whispered into his forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

---

You slowly awoke to the sensation of lips delicately pressing soft kisses into your forehead and fingers stroking along the back of your arm, the occasional touch of warm metal accompanying the touch. You mewled, curling yourself deep into the apex of his shoulder, lulled by sleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his bare chest. "I should be awake. I'd sleep the day away like this if I could."

Jake hummed, resuming his gentle caresses. He had raked down your sleep shirt along your back, fingers now dragging up and down your spine, getting lower and lower each time he did it, causing you to shiver.

"I had a dream like this. While I was away on the carrier," he spoke, pressing another kiss to your temple. "At the ranch in Texas. In my room above the barn."

"Tell me?" you yawned, still half asleep, warm and content.

Jake nosed into your cheek, trailing it over your skin as he spoke, "The two of us. In my bed. Naked."

You shook silently with laughter, turning your head back against his arm. "Of course you did."

You would have seen Jake smiling down at you had you decided to open your eyes.

"I'd dream I woke up with your back to me, sheets resting low on the curve of your back." He slid the back of his fingers across your exposed shoulder, getting lost in the image in his head. "The barn door was open, catching the first rays of sunlight in your hair. There must have been a storm cause the grass was so green, everything was so right."

You leaned away from his chest, resting your head further back on his arm to peer up at his face. Jake's hair is dishevelled, his eyes harbouring the remnants of sleep, worn and puffy. His bruise had already begun to yellow, and his cut didn't appear red or as swollen. Yet, looking up at him from within the safety of his arms, huddled against his massive chest, you find yourself wishing you could control the way air catches in your throat.

"Sounds perfect."

Jake smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you. You moan in protest, turning your head away and barely managing an "I have morning breath" to Jake as his lips land on your cheek.

"I don't care," he rasped into your ear. You turned your head back, and he placed his mouth on yours.

You give as much as he is giving you, letting Jake caress your tongue with his, letting him take and take at his pleasure, until he is releasing your mouth and mouthing across your cheek.

He’s taking his time with you, something so different from the previous times you've found yourself against or under him, at the mercy of his mouth and hands. There's hesitation in his movements, wary of making any sudden, intense movements that might have you bolt.

"You're taking your time," you say aloud, carting your fingers through his hair. Jake laps gently at the corner of your neck, hand stroking down the side of your leg. He pulls back to stare at your face, you meeting his gaze.

"I almost didn't have time."

God, you know how true that statement is. And the fact, the Jake who left you standing at the end of your driveway all those weeks ago wasn't the exact same one who returned to you.

Jake travels down the length of your body, and you let him push up your oversized shirt, revealing your breasts. "Hello, girls," he grinned, pressing a single kiss to each breast. "Oh, how I've missed you."

It makes you laugh, carting your fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. You can feel him smile against your skin. But then he is trailing his nose down your core, down your stomach, lightly grazing your skin with his lips as he goes. You watch him with careful eyes, your breath picking up quickly.

You know his intentions, where this is going, what it would evidently end up being. And you’re okay with that. You trust him, and you love him. There wasn’t anyone else you could imagine having your first time with.

Working himself down to the end of your bed, Jake’s face hovers over your underwear, his eyes searching yours. You nod, reaching down to help him remove them, Jake flinging them behind his head in a dramatic fashion, making you laugh once again.

Until he’s lining up kisses down the inside of your thigh, stopping when he’s just that close to your core. And then he looks up once again. You can hardly see any green in his eyes, just a thin strip on the edge of being overtaken by black.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

What do you do but stutter an embarrassing reply of, “If you want to.”

Jake wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to. You knew that. He even chuckles at your answer teasingly.

“You’re going to have to keep these open if I do,” he says, tapping the back of your thigh. “I’m not going to nearly perish a second time, though what a hell of a way to go.”

You huff in amusement, tinting your head back against your pillow only to drop your chin to your chest, looking at him between your legs.

“Just be gentle with me, Jake. I’m not…”

Experienced is the word you leave out, but you know Jake understands you. He always seemed to when it comes to you.

He places both of your legs on his shoulders before reaching up to thread his fingers through yours at your side. He barely has time to punch out the words, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” before his nose is parting your folds and he’s swiping his tongue up and down your cunt repeatedly.

You pull against his hold on your hands at the feeling, wailing and then biting your lip to quiet yourself, muffling your sounds.

Jake lets go of one of your hands to thumb your bottom lip, removing it from your teeth. He lifts his head and says in one breath, “Sadie’s not here, Liz. Let me hear you moan for me.”

And then he’s sucking on your clit, and you can’t hold it in any longer. The noise you let out is practically a scream, and the vibrations from Jake’s moan against your cunt push you that much further. Cause the fact he mentioned her name while headfirst deep between your legs is filthy.

And the sounds that follow, echoing around your bedroom, are raunchy. The night Jake kissed you in your hallway, your worries about Sadie hearing both of you come to mind. Because thank God she wasn’t here, or else she’d think Jake was murdering you.

You’d have to work on being quiet if you ever wanted to do this again with Jake once she came back home.

You felt hot with your shirt racked up around the top of your breasts, gripping the hem to rip it over your head, your back leaping off the bed as far as it could go. Jake glances up, still working his mouth against your cunt to watch, the only remaining piece on your body is his tags.

You buck into his mouth, having no control over your body as he just sucks and sucks and sucks, your grip on his hand getting tighter and tighter, and you’re gripping your comforter to the point your hand throbs from the force. Cause everything burns and feels so good and yet so bad, and you cry to whatever part of you decided you needed to wait to experience this.

But in the back of your head, you know nobody could make you feel the way Jake was making you feel now.

Something snaps, hard, your muscles pulling tant and the cry blaring out into the ceiling of your bedroom is anything but salacious. And Jake's voice is muffled when he works you through it, chanting, “Good girl, that’s my good girl,” over and over as you chant your hips to chase the feeling.

You are a shaking mess when Jake finally lets go, and slides back up your body, letting his weight settle against your chest, arms threading themselves under your shoulders.

"Was that okay?"

You don't even have the words to describe how you are feeling. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him, wondering why the hell he'd be asking such a question when he caused you to be in such a state.

Instead, you lurch up and kiss him hard, your hands gripping the middle of his back, sliding down to slip under the fabric of his boxers. Jake jolts when he feels your hands cupping his ass.

"Are you sure, darlin'?" he pants, pulling away from you. "Are you sure you want this? With me?"

This was Jake. He wouldn't have you without your consent.

"I only want you."

It's slightly cheesy. But there was no other way you could put it. You couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. But he challenges you again, asking, "Are you sure you want it to be me?"

You wanted to smack him for his sheer idiocy right now, bringing up his shitty perception of his self-worth. But you don't want to ruin the mood, and you know where it's coming from deep down. It has nothing to do with you.

"I do," you say instead, rubbing your nose against his. "I just don't know how to make you feel good, though."

"It's not about me right now."

Except it was. It was about both of you.

"Get on top of me."

The both of you rolled, Jake grabbing your hips as you landed on top of him. You sat up, placing your hands on his chest. The action had you rocking yourself back onto his clothed cock, and Jake let out a moan, hands tightening on your waist to push and pull with your movements.

Leaning down to kiss him once, you followed his jawline, reaching his ear. "You want to know something?" you asked, suddenly emboldened.

"What?" he gasped, nails biting into your skin.

"I've been dying to do this since the first time I saw you on the beach."

You felt the pinch of his nails as you kissed down his neck, making sure to catch a patch of skin between your teeth softly. You continued down his chest until you finally got to your desired place.

The divet.

The perfectly sculpted yet slightly crooked valley that split the entire length of his chest in half. You had a brief moment of panic, a stutter in your heartbeat, when you realized just how forward you, the freaking virgin, were being. Hell, you didn't even know if you were doing any of this right.

All you knew, you had waited long enough.

Spread out beneath you, Jake's body is spread out for you like a personalized meal. You pressed a kiss into his skin first before letting your tongue press deep into that valley and swirl all sorts of patterns across his skin. His eyes nearly bugled out of his head before Jake groaned, chest puffing out and hand fisting into your hair.

You work your way up, getting ready to take one of his nipples into your mouth, when Jake suddenly shouts and lets out a fevered, "Stop."

You reel back in shock, scared you overstepped. But Jake only tugged you up by your hips, using you as a counterweight to pull himself to sit against your headboard with a painful groan. He settled you directly against his pelvis, where you can feel just how hard he is through his boxers.

He grips the back of your neck hard and slams his lips into yours. You whimper into the kiss, worried he's using it as a tactic to let you down gently. When he finally releases your lips, you burst out, "I'm sorry, I overstepped. I shouldn't have.."

Jake grips your throat, thumb resting just barely on your Adam's apple, enough to know it's there. You can feel it with each hard sallow you take, his hand big enough to encompass the entire length and width of your neck.

"Don't ever apologize for that," he states firmly. "I'm yours to do with what you will. And trust me when I say there is a lot more you can do to me than just a simple kiss on the chest."

And there's the blush.

"I told you I'd corrupt your innocent little soul," he smirks, pulling you to his mouth once again.

The next few moments are filled with long, passionate kisses and heavy touches until Jake is reaching for the hem of his boxers, and you find yourself helping him pull them down, him kicking them off in some unknown direction.

Unlike this morning, there's no hesitation when you take him in, his cock hard and standing to attention. You regret your reaction to the comment you made about his helmet last year. Cause there was truth behind that one missing letter.

Jake reaches for you, helping to position you over him before he suddenly freezes. "Shit," he gasped, pushing you to sit on his thighs. "We don't have anything."

You ducked your head shyly. "We don't need one if you're okay without one. I... I'm on the pill."

"You're on the pill?"

You know what he means behind the question instantly.

"Two months before Penny asked me back. Other reasons, though. Not that I was expecting to get laid at any point in time," you answer him quietly, lifting your head. "You know me, Jake. I don't do one-night stands. I never have."

Jake relaxed under your hold, a small part of him sighing in relief.

"Worried I moved on?" you ask him softly, stroking your finger across his brow.

"You had every right to," he's almost ashamed to admit. You shook your head. "When are you going to get it through that stubborn head of yours that you are worth it, Jake? I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Jake sighed again, dropping his forehead to your collarbone.

"Besides, you painted a pretty picture in the flatbed of your truck," you tease, quickly reciting the words he had rasped into your ear when his fingers were almost knuckle deep in your cunt. You drop your head forward and whisper into his ear, "The day I can have you gripping my cock?"

Jake growled at your words, reaching for your thigh to properly position you over him. Straddling his waist, you rest on your knees. Jake grabbed his cock, angling it just so as to rub the tip against your cunt slowly. You weren't sure whether he was teasing you or getting you used to a feeling.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Then his tip caught at your entrance, and you let out a whimper.

He stops, not doing anything else except letting go of himself to latch onto your other hip. Tilting his head, he places a kiss on the underside of your jaw, breathing in deep.

You understand why Jake had you move on top of him for this. He was letting you control the pace and do what only felt comfortable to you. It warms your heart, even if it is on the verge of jumping out of your chest.

"Take your time, darlin," he encouraged you softly, mouthing at the skin under your collarbone. "I'm here whenever you are ready. And we can stop at any point."

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to press yourself down onto him.

Something between a whine and a gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of his cock enter you. You had no previous experience to compare this to, but you were sure you weren't supposed to feel this stretched out. Or this full.

You got about halfway down before you cried out, sightly in pain. Jake's grip tightened on your leg and hip, muscles flexing as he halted you. You're slick, but it's a tight fit. And his breath was just as ragged as yours.

Sliding the hand that was griping your hip up your back, Jake encompasses the nape of your neck in his hand, tiling your head down so he could take your mouth into an open kiss.

"Jake," you whimpered into his mouth, your nails digging hard into his shoulder. Jake kept a tight rein on his control, but it was a battle he was struggling with. You just felt too good around him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed. "Taking my cock."

"I don't know if I can go any further," you whimper. But Jake is quick to reply, "We don't have to, not if you don't want to. But you're almost there, just a little bit more."

"Fuck," you whined, tearing yourself away from his mouth to bury your face into his shoulder. His hand tightened against the nape of your neck, fingers tangling themselves into the roots of your hair. The grip is reassuring and grounding, and you take several deep breaths before you press down once again.

Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he bottoms out, his hips pressed tightly into yours.

That's it. You were a virgin no longer.

And suddenly, with that thought, you felt nervous. Because, of all things, that damn fucking sign in the girl's bathroom of the Hard Deck flashes in your mind.

Jake is experienced. You're not. It was one thing for him to say he didn't mind you were a virgin, but it was something else for him to be the one to change that status. Because every story you've ever read about how men would compare their previous partners to their current one eats away at you.

There was no way you would stack up to the long list of women Jake had bedded, for lack of a better word. But Jake only nuzzled the valley between your breasts, tongue delicately tracing the underside of one while rubbing soothingly down the curve of your spine.

"Perfect," he murmured softly. You can't help yourself when your next words come out more anxiously than teasingly. "Live up to your imagination?"

If Jake caught on, he didn't let you know.

"Better," he groaned. "I don't care if we do anything else. I'm perfectly content to be like this the rest of the day."

He twitches inside you, and you gasp, dropping your mouth to rest against the top of his head. You know what he is doing. He's letting you adjust, letting the pain subside, assuring your anxious thoughts.

"Like this? Me, wrapped around your cock, barely moving," You manage to pant, and he hums against your chest. "What if we have company? Rooster tends to show up unannounced."

"He better not," his growl vibrates off your skin, hand flexing on your thigh in an effort not to thrust. "He should know better than to show up at your door when he knows damn well what we're getting up to."

Jake titles his head to set his teeth into your collarbone in a warning, making you clench involuntarily and whimper. He snarls into your neck, "Don't mention him when I'm inside you. This is not going to end badly, not for your first time."

The heat laced in his voice did nothing to stop the small chuckle that racked your chest. Your muscles pull tight across your stomach, and you choke, "Are you trying to make me combust?"

"Is it working?"

Jake doesn't move. Not at first. Not until you decide to test the waters and flex your hips once, rocking yourself on his cock ever so slightly.

Your mouth is resting open against his forehead, and your nails are biting into his shoulders as you moan, letting the first thumps of pain, turn into pleasure. He's tense under you, Jake, using every ounce of willpower not to thrust himself hard up into you to match your rocks. He wants to take this slow. He wants you to enjoy this, no matter how badly he wants to feel you clench around him.

Instead, he rasps into your breast, “Feel good?”

Why is he so obsessed with asking you questions?

You’re unsure if your noise is intelligible, but you try to force out an affirmative hum. Then he hits the back of your cervix, making you howl and curl into him.

It must have been the sound you let out because Jake growls. Gripping the flesh of your butt tightly, he flipped the both of you. You weren't expecting him to, not with how beaten up he was. The movement of your back hitting the bed caused him to hit something deep inside you, causing you to cry out and grip the planes of his shoulders, nails biting hard and uncaring if you happened to touch his bruise.

The slow movement of you rocking on him was nothing compared to the way he started to thrust in earnest.

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you," he panted, increasing his pace. "The day I saw you at the Hard Deck when you were dancing in your kitchen. The clean fucking slate."

You whimper at the growl he spun on the word fucking, adding to the heat already spreading across your body. Even with the pleasure he’s bestowing across your body, you know this must be somewhat painful for him.

"Jake.." you gasped. "Your back."

"Fuck my back," he grunted, angling his hips in an urgent thrust. It made you tilt your head back into your pillow, your head almost hitting your headboard, your nails biting into his back, letting out a heated cry. Jake went for your neck, teeth, and lips, pressing hard to your pulse point.

"I don't care if I fucking break it," he growled out. "I'm not stopping until you cum for me."

A particular thrust caused you to turn your head, and Jake sunk his teeth into your neck. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around Jake's waist. The angle of this next thrust changed, and you whimpered loudly, tears leaking down the sides of your face as Jake lurched over you with a desperate groan.

It has you wrapping your other leg around his waist, your hips slanted downwards, his cock pounding you at a new angle.

His hand, supporting himself on the bed next to you, shot out to grip your bedframe. Alternating between deep thrusts and shallow teases, Jake watched you underneath him. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your eyes fighting to stay open, and dog tags - his dog tags - jangling against your stomach.

He almost didn’t have this, the stark realization haunting him. He had literally been a breath away from never seeing you again, never feeling your warmth or hearing your cries of pleasure or even your laughter. He would take any chance, any glance, anything to assure him you were real. And that you were his.

His back spasmed, and he fell on top of you, saving himself from crushing you at the last second. But it doesn’t deter him. No, Jake still flexed his hips, more than determined to get you over that edge, to have you cum. Even if he didn’t, he wanted you to experience at least that.

But those dog tags cause a possessive feeling to rise in his chest - because the only word going through his head right now is mine.

"You’re mine, Elizabeth,” he grunted. "Say it. Please say it.”

There's the possessive kink you know and love.

“I’m yours,” you cry out, consumed by the feeling of him driving his cock into you. “Yours Jake, just please…”

It is then a mantra of "pleases" and "I needs" fall from your lips, of which you aren't sure what for. All you knew was that Jake was working you higher and higher off that edge, fully determined to see you tumble over it.

“Cum for me Liz,” he whines. “Cum for me, just for me. Please my darlin’ girl.”

He drops his hand between the two of you, seeking out your clit and rubbing hard, tight circles that have you screaming. Your soaring, going over that somewhat unfamiliar edge he’s brought you over only twice before.

You swear you black out, just for a few moments, until Jake is at your ear, whispering praise after praise about how good it finally felt to have you cum around him. How only he would ever be the one to experience this, how proud of you he is.

Then he thrusts, once, twice, before your hips jolt up, and he's pressing himself deep, flooding your core. You sob, burying your face into his neck and tightening your legs around him. Because amongst the overstimulation, you can feel another one creeping up from out of nowhere. Pure white heat shoots up to your chest as Jake's haunting moan vibrates your entire being.

Then it's quiet, and you want to bury yourself in this moment.

You don't even care that you're crying. Because, with all the thoughts and feelings flying back and forth through your mind, there's one that stands out the most.

Your so fucking glad you waited.

"Are you alright?"

When you don't say anything, too blissed out to form words, Jake pants out your name against your neck; his voice laced with urgency.

"I need... I need a moment. Just a moment," you manage to pant, forcing breath into your lungs. Jake moves, trying to bring himself onto his elbows as his back screams in protest.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, stroking your cheek. You manage a small shake of your head, the sides of your mouth turning upwards. "No," you reply softly.

You finally open your eyes to see Jake staring down at you. His brow pulled together in concern. And, of course, you, being you, had to say the first thing that came to mind.

"I guess you did give me a good time after all."

Jake tilts his head for a second before his memory catches up with him, and he shakes his head, though you can see the puff he takes out of pride.

"What am I going to do with you, Elizabeth Beck?"

You grin up at him. "Hopefully, a repeat of that sometime in the near future?"

Jake rolled onto his side with a groan, pulling you with him to lie half on his chest. The action caused him to slip out from you, which you were grateful for. The quick movement only caused a brief amount of pain, and you were sure if he drew it out, it would have been worse.

Jake was pressing kisses to your forehead as the aftershocks finally made them known. You trembled against him, hands trying to find purchase along his chest, and Jake didn't stop until he was sure you were okay.

But, in the blissful silence, once you calmed down, Jake playing with your hair against your back, did he finally ask the question you knew was coming since he walked through your front door.

"Does she hate me?"

You weakly lifted your head from his shoulder, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face.

"The day at the beach. She was devastated..." Jake trailed off, absentmindedly staring at your bedroom wall. You pressed a kiss to his chest. "We've both had a lot of people in our lives that have hurt us."

"I'm used to disappointing people, but her? She has every right."

You frowned. "She missed you so much, Jake."

He shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. You lifted your hand off his chest to cradle his jaw, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone under the newly darkened skin. "She could never hate you. She asked me every day when you'd be coming home."

Jake didn't open his eyes, but he did lean into your touch, his shame and guilt still evident.

You wanted to tell him about the most recent thunderstorm, Sadie waking up and crying out for the both of you in the middle of the night. You had done your best to soothe her, but deep down, you knew she wanted Jake. Nothing could compare to his words of reassurance or the way she felt when he hugged her that night.

In the end, lifting his dog tags off your neck and placing them around hers was the only thing that worked. Huddled in her bed with your arms around her, she fell asleep with them gripped tightly in her hand.

Something told you even if you did tell him, it would only make him more upset.

You stroked your fingers over his forehead, asking him softly, "Come with me when I pick her up from camp next week? I promise she will prove you wrong."

There was a silent pause, and then he opened his eyes. He searched you for any hint of deception, not that he would find any. Sadie was just as important to him as you were. In the end, he nodded once with a sigh.

It was a few more minutes before he carefully untangled himself from your hold. He swung his legs over to the side of your bed with a groan, his muscles spasming as he sat up. Even in your blissed-out state, you reached out and placed a hand on his upper back, where his bruise was the least dark, hoping to soothe some of his pain.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting something to clean you up."

"You don't have to, Jake. I can take care of it."

"It's my job," he countered, turning his head to look at you with a cheeky grin. "Let me do this for you."

He stood, lumping slightly to your bathroom to grab something to clean you up. You watched him go, taking him in in all his naked glory, biting your bottom lip hard.

You still couldn't believe he was yours.

You weren't expecting this: the gentleness as he took the rag between your legs when he returned, the kiss he placed on your thigh when you whimpered from the sensitivity.

After tossing the rag into your laundry hamper to be dealt with later, he maneuvered himself back into the position he assumed last night when you fell asleep, head buried in your neck, arms wrapped under your shoulders.

It was soothing, his weight on your chest almost counteracting the dull throbbing in your core.

"How long do I have you for?" you asked, threading your fingers through his hair.

"I have nowhere to be for the next two weeks," he mumbled into your chest.

"Stay with me?"

"As if I'd leave you now."

😏😘 You hate me now?

Tags:

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@phantomxoxo @formulapierre @eli2447 @fulla02 @blckgrl-sunflower @mizzzpink @ohgodnotagainn

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@its-the-pilot

Part 22 - Jump in progress

Wickett ;)

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vxperorchist · 8 months

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Hello……

could I request a hurt/comfort where reader has fucked up majorly and lost their best friend and are, yk, not doing great? (Def not me 😙 what are you talking about🤨🧐🧐) with, Diluc, Kaeya, Ajax, and you pick💗💗💗💗 (don’t do anything if you can’t or don’t want to pls note this as always)

Struggling with you!

Diluc, Kaeya, Childe, and Tighnari x Gn! Reader

Warnings: Mentally struggling reader.

Theme: Comfort/Fluff

(This is such an old request that I completely forgot to do) Thank you for the request however! I hope you're doing good :( remember to eat, drink water, and look HOT. ILY <3.

Diluc

Diluc has had his fair share of hurt and struggles. Both physically and mentally. He understands what it's like to be in a dark place. He's experienced plenty of losses.

That's why it was so easy for him to recognize your signs of mental struggle. He was quick to catch on, and quicker to react.

He was always your shoulder to cry on. Diluc was an amazing listener. He was there for you, whether that be to cry into his chest or to rant to him about everything. No matter what, he was there.

Diluc didn't want you to experience what he had all those years ago. He didn't want you to turn out like him.

Diluc was there to check up on you both in public and in private. He managed to keep your relationship on the down-low, but at home he became more persistent with checking up on you.

He was reliable, and extremely caring despite his cold barrier he had put up on the outside. He made sure to keep you company, to put down the cold barrier and be raw with you, just as you were with him.

Kaeya

Kaeya, much like Diluc had his fair share of struggles and losses. However, unlike Diluc, he had a different way of coping.

Kaeya shielded himself from pain with humour. He found distractions rather than coping mechanisms. Due to this, he struggled to find a way to properly help you.

He happened to be a good listener too, he wasn't very good at giving advice however. That's why he turned to engaging in activities with you. It was a way to get your mind off of things.

Whether it be strolls around the city and stargazing at night, Kaeya would find a way to take your mind off of the things that bothered you.

He didn't want you to shut emotions out, he wanted you to feel them and cope. Kaeya couldn't be the reliable wall you needed, however he was a great way of escape, a way of distraction.

Childe

Childe was someone who felt intense emotion himself. He wasn't heartless, he had a family he cared deeply about. He had you who he cared deeply about.

Childe didn't shield himself from anger or sorrow, he turned it into power, he allowed his emotions to motivate him.

When he noticed you were struggling mentally, he did everything he could to ease your pain. He bought you things, held you tight, and listened to everything you had to say.

He didn't want these emotions to negatively effect you. He explained what he did. How he turned everything negatively affecting him to his own benefit.

He showed you how to turn sorrow and pain into motivation. He was there every step of the way, even on the days where you felt awful, the days where you didn't want to get up. Childe wouldn't let someone he held so dearly to his heart fall.

Childe helped you become stronger mentally. He helped you recover and find happiness again. He reminded you how there was so much more to life than pain.

Tighnari

Tighnari typically dealt with physical issues, subsiding all mental struggles and focusing on what he had to do. He then realized he couldn't ignore your pain, and had to learn to change his way of ignoring struggles, not only his own, but others.

As a forest watcher, Tighnari typically dealt with other people physically, he was put in a leadership position, a position where he had to put others before himself.

Being your boyfriend, Tighnari grew as an individual. He became a better listener, he became someone who cared for another person both mentally and physically.

When he noticed your struggles he leaned into action quickly. He made sure you were eating and drinking properly, he made sure to keep you company and to talk about what you were experiencing.

He went to the akademiya and read about grief, all to make sure he could fully understand what was happening with you emotionally. He understood you needed him now more than ever, and made sure to always be by your side. Tighnari was the stability you needed, the encouragement to heal.

#genshin impact #childe x reader #childe tartagalia #childe tartaglia ajax #tighnari #tighnari x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnvindr #kaeyagenshinimpact #kaeya alberich #genshin diluc #genshin kaeya #kaeya x reader #OrchistList

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dipolardruid · 1 year

Note

OKAY back with another request! How about Flirty reader with the yanderes? But reader dosnt flirt with the yanderes only to other people like friends/people they just met but never the yanderes. And most importantly if they ask why they say.. “Because I have too much respect for you. Also cuz I see you as my sibling!” The yanderes were family zoned which might be a lot worse than friend zoned lmao

-🌊 anon

TW: Mention of manipulation

Anell

"Too much respect....? Sibling?" She'll be gripping her head in astonishment, she understands the sibling part it happens but too much respect? That's the dumbest crap she's ever heard.

If you want to see her genuinely get mad tell her that, she hasn't made it a secret that she has feelings for you and that she wants to be with you so everytime you'd flirt with someone else infront of her it'd chip at her more and more, so she'll tell you straight up she has feelings for you and be persistent to the point that it could ruin your chances of any romantic interest with anyone else.

As mentioned before saying you see her as a sibling won't set her off since she will still see it as a chance to be able to win you over like in those romcoms.

Tina

"What...?" She stares at you disbelief as you tell her this "I....I don't need a sibling! If I wanted one I could've just asked my parents and too much respect!? If you do give me a chance show me the same amount of respect in our relationship!" Her voice now raised.

"I hate when you let others touch you or give you honeyed words in your ears even more so when you return those advances! I hate it so much that everytime I witness it I can't help but feel like I want to scream!" She finishes her sentence with a puff crouching on the floor with her knees against her chest.

She looks up at you with her brows furrowed before speaking "I'm sure you and I both know what'll happen if my patience truly runs out so how about you quit what you're doing and continue on as usual except your flirting with anyone who isn't me or the others...ok?"

Paul

He stares at you with furrowed brows and jaw clenched his hands in a fist so tight you can see them shaking from the force "I already have brothers and sisters I don't need another one..." He says through gritted teeth his breathing becoming ragged as he finishes his sentence.

He takes slow steps towards you "Not only that you give me the stupid excuse of having too much respect for me...I have people who throw themselves at me saying how much they respect me, admire me some even want to be me..." He stops halfway towards you upon seeing your face which causes him to begin slouching.

"Yet the person I want more than anything to look at me with those eyes and give me those flirtatious remarks can't help but see me as nothing more than a sibling...it's not fair."

Petra

You see as her cheeks, eyes and the tip of her nose turn red at your statement "I...I understand." You watch as she turns away from you and quickly makes her way out of the room not leaving you to process what's happening before she has the door closed.

Throughout the days you notice how she seems to be more quiet and a little distant when it comes to her usual routine but she will converse with you if you talk to her but besides that she won't initiate any type of discussion even with the others. The only one who seems to know what's wrong is Jake but he stays quiet at the request of Petra and is keeping out of it.

It wouldn't be until you would return the advances of another classmate that she'd finally give in, she would wait until she was sure you both were alone before doing anything.

"I don't understand....you barely met them yet you are so ready to throw yourself at them while I'm left in the dust, haven't I shown you how much I care!? I just don't understand what am I doing wrong...."

Jake

He doesn't even need to ask he already knows how you view him but will act as if he didn't and use that to his advantage he'll slowly use the people around you to keep your attention on him he'll just put you in situations where you need a hero to save the day, someone to give you a comforting hug or even a protective figure when going out because you never know who could be waiting.

That respect you have for him he will have it be raised so high that when you look at him your eyes will shine as the first thoughts in your mind are how someone like him could even bother with you and once he has you in that mindset he'll begin to trick you into believing that the respect you hold for him is so much more than that.

I mean why else would someones eyes light up upon seeing someone, how your thoughts will slowly start to be filled with him at all times even for basic tasks and he will ensure that by the end of the month everyone else won't even be able to register in your mind besides him and the others.

Request are open!

#yandere #yandere oc #my oc character #yandere x reader #yandere x y/n #female yandere x reader #female yandere #yandere female oc #yandere female #yandere male x reader #yandere male #male yandere x reader #yandere male oc #male yandere #yandere mutants #yandere popular kids

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booksandabeer · 1 year

Note

I’ve read like almost all the angsty stucky fics (i’ve been doing this for years), so I just want to know if there’s anything new? Thank you so much.

Hello there!

(1) You've read almost ALL the angsty Stucky fics out there? HOW? I've been diligently working on that goal for years and I'm nowhere near close to achieving it (also it's kind of a moving target, so you know...). Do you ever sleep? Eat? 😜 (2) How new is 'new'? Any particular preferences? What level of angst are we talking here? Give me all the information, please, so I can find you the perfect fic!

Anyway, as always, I tried my best. Here we go:

All of these are fics that were either completed in 2022 or are so fresh out of the oven, they are currently being posted.

Prisoner One by ancientreader | E, 134K

Author's summary: Captain Steve Rogers is assigned to evaluate the security arrangements for an unusually dangerous prisoner. Of course, nothing is what it seems.

A truly original AU in which almost everything is the same: Steve is Captain America, Bucky is the Winter Soldier, they were both born in the 1910s & grew up in Brooklyn. Everything is the same, well, except for the fact that they never knew each other before the war. What happens when they both meet for the first time in the 21st Century, where everyone has an agenda and seemingly no one can be trusted? This is one of those fics that, even while your heart is hurting for the characters, makes you squeal with delight because it is so full of smart ideas, little details, and bits of characterization that subvert both canon and fanon interpretations.

You are here by dharmashark | M, 22K

Author's summary: Did he mean to—did Steve know, during that long march back from Azzano, that he slept the whole night with a hand through the open neckline of Bucky’s shirt? Each time Bucky woke, heart racing, he felt that heavy, certain weight against his chest and remembered who he was, and where he was supposed to be.

Bucky wanders between DC and Bucharest trying to understand himself, outrun his ghosts, and hide Steve from both. Steve won’t let him. And certain ghosts won’t let up.

A "classic" post-TWS Recovery/Up All Night to Get Bucky fic--and I mean that in the BEST way possible. Gorgeous writing, intense emotions, and a great understanding of the characters and their dynamic. The first part in particular floored me in a way that I didn't think could still happen to me after reading millions of words of Stucky fanfic. This story looked me in the eye and said "oh, so you think you've seen everything? You think you've become immune? Well, watch me as I tear your heart right out of your chest." To be fair, it then proceeded to slowly, gently put it back in again.

then a small thing happened by BeaArthurPendragon | E, 41K

Author's summary: After a Russian bomb in Ukraine ends combat photographer Bucky Barnes’ career several decades ahead of schedule, he returns to the lake house he hasn’t visited since his parents died to put the pieces back together over the long, lonely winter. He’s got no idea what his life is supposed to look like now that he’s not constantly on the move and facing danger every day, but an unexpected friendship with his elderly neighbor—and then her astronaut son—leads to the kind of connection he never thought he’d get to have.

Bea is one of my top 3 all-time favorite writers for this ship and a self-described "peddler of smut and hard-won joy", and that's exactly it. Like all of her works, this is a smart, mature and empathicly written story about people who've endured horrific things, but who've persisted and kept a tight grip on their own humanity even in the face of unspeakable atrocities. It's also funny, and tender, and hot. An incredibly satisfying read that reminds you to never lose your sense of wonder in the world.

Nothing Said by theemdash | M, 8K

Author's summary: There’s always been another war, another reason for Steve to keep his feelings to himself and keep moving on. For all his wishes to do things differently, he never figured out how. Which is why following Fury to the moon, passing on the shield, and leaving Bucky to discover himself seemed like the right answer. When Steve gets caught in a force field surrounding a crumbling civilization, he starts to realize everything he thought was wrong.

A beautiful, introspective story about Steve's state of mind post-Endgame. So quiet and yet so intense, with a lovely, soft ending. Featuring a Steve who has to figure out himself and how to be brave enough to truly live, and a Bucky who knows him, has always known him, and ultimately helps Steve to save himself and find happiness.

WIPs

better to speak or die by emilywithoutY | M, currently 14K (Chapter 2/13 Ch), updates every Thursday & Sunday

Do you think Jonathan understood what happened that day David first stepped into his father’s court?

All James wants is to play his part well enough that his mother stops looking at him with that twist of regret in her smile.

Summers in C. are as endless and hazy as when they were kids. The only thing to break the sun-soaked monotony is the arrival of the new summer intern. While the rest of the household—and half the village—fawn over Steve Rogers’ movie star looks and understated charm, James finds him aloof and his polite interest near unbearable. But as they collide in vulnerable moments, the sparks of frustration ignite something neither has the power to stop.

Does this sound like a beautiful, passionate, sun-drenched summer romance in Italy, with great 80s period details, exquisite writing, and the bittersweet sting of childhood nostalgia? Why yes it does--and it is all that! Until it pulls out the rug from under you. A spectacularly good No-Powers AU, loosely based on Call Me By Your Name.*

*(full disclosure I beta-read this so I might be biased, but it also means that I can say with full confidence that this insanely good all the way through.)

Still Running by TessaBennet | Part 4 in What I'm Looking For series | M, currently 16K (Chapter 5/30), updates every Friday

Author's summary: Steve Rogers is, against his wishes and intentions, still alive in the 21st century. There's aliens in New York, there's an intelligence agency in his name, there's more new faces than old ones. And Steve? He's reluctant about it, but he's going to have to try to get by. Finding his footing isn't a job he wants to tackle; but then, when's the last time he got what he wanted?

Do you want to go on a canon-compliant (currently) 290K journey of Suffering, Pining, and Pain? Here you go! This is the 4th part in the author's ongoing and awe-inspiring project of 'Let's Try to Make Sense of the MCU & Ultimately Fix It'. It's full of beautiful character insights, historical details, and original ideas to fill out the parts we didn't get to see on screen. The installments can be read as standalones, but I really recommend that you start from the beginning if you have the time & willingness to cry A WHOLE LOT.

Angst Angst Baby Part 1 - Even More Stucky Fic Recs

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myreia · 2 months

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DIVERGENCE OF THE HEART

CHAPTER NINE: NASCENCY

Chapter Rating: Explicit Characters: Aureia Malathar (WoL), Aymeric de Borel, Thancred Waters, Hilda Ware Pairings: Aureia/Aymeric, Aureia/Thancred, Thancred/Hilda Chapter Words: 6,520 Notes: Set during the Heavensward patches. This chapter contains explicit sexual content. Summary: Aureia Malathar may have made a name for herself in Ishgard, but her deeds come with a hefty personal toll. Despite her victories at the Grand Melee she has never felt more unsure of herself. Her relationship with Thancred—the person she thought knew her the best—is strained, yet she cannot abandon him. Aymeric is falling for her harder with each passing day, yet she cannot bring herself to accept it. All may be fair in love and war, but at least war is predictable. Love on the other hand… Chapters: 1 • 2 • 3 • 4 • 5 • 6 • 7 • 8 • 9 • 10 • 11 Read on AO3

Aymeric’s chambers are dark, the lights long extinguished. Shafts of blue-grey light filter in from the windows, freezing rain lashing against the panes. The storm is persistent. Perhaps it will break in the morning, once it has worn itself out.

Aureia kisses him, too distracted to think much of the prickle of cold air against her bare skin. She grips his shoulders, gripping him tight, jostled by his steady pace. Giddiness bubbles in her heart and she can’t quite keep herself from laughing. With anyone else she would protest being carried, but with him it feels right. She is vulnerable in his arms in a way she has never been with anyone.

The feeling is intoxicating.

“A moment, if you would,” he murmurs against her lips.

She smiles. “I suppose I can allow that.”

A low, husky sound rumbles in his throat. He sets her down gently, her feet touching down on cool floor. She clutches the blanket to her chest and patters across it, passing from polished wood to thick carpet as her eyes adjust to the dim light. His chambers are large, comfortable yet organized. Judging from the neatness, either he doesn’t spend much time here or he is insistent on keeping things tidy.

Pop.

Aureia flinches, her heart leaping into her throat, and glances over her shoulder. Aymeric’s face glows in the dark, illuminated by the soft glow of a struck match. He lights the candelabra on the bureau and blows the match out, waving away the trail of smoke. Picking it up, he calmly crosses the room and attends to the remaining candles, flooding the chambers with light one by one.

She turns, taking in her surroundings. A large bed below arching windows. A couch and a couple of large armchairs by the hearth. A worn writing desk stained with ink and scratched with marks from years of use. Bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes, some as thin as a broadsheet, others as thick as a Sharlayan tome. Their spines are not stamped with titles and their pages are marked with pieces of paper. If she had to guess, these aren’t books but rather journals—a whole history of thoughts and observations, recorded over the years.

Her heart pounds. Has he written about her?

“There,” he says, kneeling by the hearth. A fire roars to life, crackling pleasantly. “As I said, only a moment.”

He looks up, staring her with a thoroughly smitten look. She arches an eyebrow and return his gaze, her fingers toying with the blanket as they rest against her collarbone. It clings to her body, the soft blue fabric pooling at her feet like the train of a gown. She shivers, her exposed back prickling with goosepimples.

“Are you cold?” he asks, rising to his feet. He looks strangely incomplete, standing before her in his trousers and boots and nothing else. “Forgive me that I did not think to light it sooner. This manor’s chambers are too drafty for their own good—”

She shakes her head, a smile on her lips. “I’m not bothered,” she says.

He hangs his head and laughs, grinning sheepishly. Scratching the back of his neck, he runs a hand through his dark hair and brushes it off his forehead. “Another moment, if you would, Aureia,” he asks. “Please.”

Her heart thrums and a warm, affectionate blush rushes across her cheeks. She has never seen him so unsure of himself. He projects such confidence in his daily life that she never imagined he could be self-conscious. And, of course, there was their moment just now. The way he kissed her on the floor of his study. That certainly was not the act of a self-conscious man.

Perhaps this is a reminder that people—everyone—are more complex and contradictory than most give them credit. There is an ebb and flow. And if she has learned anything tonight, it is that there is a difference between Aymeric the Lord Commander and Aymeric the man.

She nods. “Take all the time you need,” she says gently.

He smiles, grateful. She wraps the blanket around herself, tucking it securely beneath her armpits, watching as he paces across the room. Returning to the bureau, he turns his back on her and undresses methodically, removing his boots and trousers with disciplined movements.

Aureia stiffens, a fist pressed to her chest. Two very different nations, two very different wars. But she knows what it is like to strip bare in the army barracks, your naked body just another among hundreds. There is no time for personal boundaries when efficacy is in need.

Aymeric pauses, silent, and rests his hands against the top of the bureau. Firelight glows against his pale skin, dancing across the taught muscles of his lower back. She can sense his hesitance, as if he is fighting with himself. She does not know why for certain, but thinking on it now, she can hazard a guess. He told her he has shared himself with only one other. A boy, long ago. She knows too well how relationships between comrades-in-arms play out. How they so often end.

Perhaps this is as new to him as it is to her.

She swallows a lump in her throat. It was because of him that she could admit to her own personal anxieties tonight. But she never stopped to wonder whether he would have his own.

“Aymeric?” she asks softly. “Are you—”

“Well,” he interrupts. “I am… well. Simply lost in thought.” He inhales a deep breath and pulls the top drawer open. He withdraws a small bottle and pauses, staring at it with a strange look on his face. He sets it aside and continues rummaging, slipping something small into his hand, clasping it tight. “Aureia, I must ask… May I be frank?”

She takes a step towards him, the blanket rustling around her. “You don’t have to ask permission.”

“I am… It is a question of courtesy. I would never wish for you to think otherwise.”

“Aymeric, you are the politest person I know. Frankly, I don’t think you have an impolite bone in your body and I wonder whether it would do you some good.”

He chuckles and hangs his head. “You are right, of course. Nevertheless…” Trailing off, he glances over his shoulder and meets her eyes. “I wish to make love to you tonight. Fully and ardently, have no doubt of that. Would that I could allow us to be swept away in the passion of the night, but there is a matter I must needs address. It would not sit well to leave it undiscussed.”

She tilts her head, confused. “What is it?”

“You are a mage. Have you much experience in the art of healing? The astrologians have methods, I have heard, to protect against such things—”

“I’m not an astrologian. Aymeric, what are you talking about?”

He pauses. “I am a bastard. This you know. I may love you, Aureia, but I will not risk fathering a bastard of my own.”

“Oh…” The sound escapes her lips, shaky and uncertain. It is strange to hear this now, confirmation of what she has suspected intertwined with a grave subject. He loves her. Of course he does. But there are very real concerns that come with it.

She hadn’t considered this would be a fear of his. She hadn’t considered it at all. Naïve, perhaps, but she hadn’t though she would need them anytime soon. Foolish. She has no desire to be pregnant, to have children. She should have thought of this sooner.

“I… I know of certain spells, but I have never cast them. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

The slightest bow of his head and he looks away. The distance between them stretches out before her, feeling far farther than it should be. She wonders whether she should go to him, whether seeing him face to face would ease the awkward rawness of this conversation. Or would he prefer she keep her distance all together?

She waits for him to speak, but there is nothing but silence. From this angle she can see nothing but his bare back; he leans against the bureau, contemplative and lost in thought, the passionate urgency that overtook him before all but vanished. Biting her lower lip, she tugs the loosening blanket and pulls it up, thinking through her next words carefully. “But I can learn,” she continues. “We can wait for this. We don’t have to do anything tonight. Being with you now is more than enough for me—”

“I wish to wholeheartedly. Painfully so. Do you?”

Her heart flutters, her stomach in knots. What she mistook for a loss of passion is clearly more than that. The memory of his mouth on her lingers—not simply the sensation of it, but the joy that overcame him as he brought her to rapture. He wants to make love to her. She wants to see him happy.

“Yes,” she breathes. “You have no idea how much.”

He exhales a long breath, collecting himself, and turns his head to look at her. “By the Fury…” Relief spreads across his face. “I worried that my words may have pushed you away.”

“I’m glad you told me. Thank you.”

“I have my means.” He opens his palm, showing her the small flask within. “Alchemy may not be as reliable as magicks, but I am certain it will prevent that which I fear. Or so Artoirel has assured me.”

Somehow it comes as no surprise that he has had this discussion with the Fortemps heir. One a bastard, the other whose incomparable brother was illegitimate. Illegitimacy has shaped both their lives, albeit in different ways. Of course they would have voiced their concerns. “I would trust his word,” she says. “And the word of your alchemist.”

He smiles, grateful for her reassurance, and downs a dose of the tonic. Returning the flask to the drawer, he pushes it shut and glances over his shoulder, his gaze lingering on her. “I have not said it yet tonight,” he says. “But by the Fury are you beautiful.”

Aureia raises an eyebrow and paces across the floor, the blanket rippling behind her. “Oh?” she asks lightly, raising her head.

He smiles and turns around, back leant against the bureau, elbows resting against its undecorated surface. He glows in the firelight, the flickering flames bringing a flush to his skin, the scars dulled by the warmth. He looks so lanky and unassuming, unfurled that way. Far too delicate for Ishgardian standards, but beautiful in his own right.

Her gaze wanders over his nakedness, taking him in. All of him.

“If you do not believe me, I will proclaim it again—”

She laughs and steps into him, pressing herself to him as she rises up on her tiptoes.

“—and again and again—”

She throws her arms around his neck and pulls him down, kissing him deeply. He seizes her face in his hands and leans into it, swaying slightly as she grips him tight. The blanket slips loose and falls from her body, pooling at their feet. Neither of them pay it any heed.

Aymeric cradles her, a hand on her lower back, the other at her breast. His hips roll against hers and she gasps at the pressure, hooking one leg around him. Desperate not to break the kiss, he seizes her by the waist, his hands digging into her ass, and lifts her up. She shifts her weight, balancing carefully, and grips him tight. Her fingers brush his collarbone, nails digging into his shoulders as she grinds rhythmically against his hardening cock.

The feel of her bare flesh against his makes her heart race. This is different from before, when there was clothing—however minimal—between them. He groans softly, the sound muffled in their kiss, and the rigid pressure rocking pleasurably against her. Heat pools between her legs as she imagines him moving inside her, excitement and nervous anticipation fluttering in her chest.

For something she once held in trivial regard, something—perhaps in a desperate attempt to comfort herself—she herself mocked, the sudden importance of the moment hits her like a thunderbolt. A shock to the system, an understanding of herself she once would have denied. The physical desire for him is strong, exciting yet foreign, aching like a fresh bruise she cannot keep herself from prodding.

And it terrifies her. Perhaps it is the fear that it will not last, that this feeling is fleeting and will be gone come morning. Perhaps it is the fear that it is simply fabricated, a bogus emotion that she has tricked herself into believing. Perhaps it is the fear that she fed herself a lie for too many years, that she was never as broken as she believed herself to be.

Aymeric gives her a deep, lasting kiss, his lips tugging at hers as he draws away. He is breathless, panting from the fervor of kissing her and the effort of carrying her. His nose brushes her cheek and nuzzles her gently, trailing open kisses across her jaw and neck. When he sucks at the tender flesh at the base of her throat, her breath catches and she swallows a moan, trembling with sensation. Her hips buck, moving rapidly now as she grinds against his cock. She is caught with indecision, torn between the desire to feel him inside her and the desire to put her hands on him and discover all the secret spots that drive him wild.

It is the first that she wants, she realizes with surprise—and badly. The second will come with time. But the first… She doesn’t know why it is important to her, but she knows that it is. He has already made her come tonight. Her own experiments—conducted out of boredom or curiosity or during the sporadic times when she felt like indulging her fantasies—cannot compare. She can satisfy herself, sure, but with him… Someone she trusts. Someone who is keen to know her better than she knows herself…

It is different than doing it alone.

Only moments ago in the study, she would have been happily content with their entanglement on the floor. But now she knows what she wants. He gave her something precious. She would give it back. She must return the favour tonight.

It’s the natural progression for a pair like them, isn’t it? The culmination of sex. Or maybe she’s had the idea planted in her head from years of listening to friends’ escapades, reinforced by those damn romance chapbooks. Two people joined together, moving as one.

Aureia trembles, her dark hair falling around her ears, brushing her collarbone. She puts her hands to either side of his face and pulls him to her, capturing his mouth with hers. He groans as her tongue slips inside his mouth, her breasts pressing against his chest. Her hands rake through his hair, tugging roughly.

“Put me down,” she murmurs urgently. “Bed, now—”

“Aye, bed—” The words are barely recognizable through his breathless gasps. He cannot stop kissing her. “‘Tis here—”

His arm slips across her back and he lets go, dropping her to the mattress. The height is greater than she expects and her stomach drops. She whoops in surprise and throws her head back, startled laughter bubbling out of her in a rush. He chuckles and grins, following up quickly with an open kiss. Her legs spread, a foot rubbing idly against the edge of the bed, making room as he lays on top of her. His weight presses into her and he runs his fingers through her hair, brushing it back from her forehead. He kisses her lips, her cheek, her throat, her breasts, eager to explore. His tongue runs across her nipple, circling it, and tugs it into his mouth. Her neck arches and she moans, wriggling beneath him from the sensation. Her hips rock, thrusting upwards, and her cunt brushes against his erect cock.

His tongue lavishes her breast, spurned on by the sounds escaping her lips. He runs a hand across her thigh, his touch feather-light, stroking the inside. She shakes, heat coursing in her veins, anticipation coiling deep inside her. He dips a hand between her thighs, rumbling at the heated slickness he finds there—and stiffens. She can sense his hesitation, wondering how best to touch her. She reaches between them and takes his hand, pressing his fingers to the sensitive nub, and murmurs her wish.

He strokes, unpracticed, but confident from her direction, and lavishes her breast with his tongue. Pleasure blooms and she falls back, eyes closed, sinking into the soft covers. She indulges herself for a few moments of bliss, gripping the covers in her fists and twisting them between her. His fingers draw a rougher kind of desire than his tongue, slow and steady—but indulge too long and he may very well push her over the brink.

Her stomach tenses, core muscles tightening as she dances along the edge. Opening her eyes, she shoves her hands into the mattress and pushes herself up. He raises his head and she kisses him roughly, her lips crashing against his, and rakes her hands down his back. The scars are rough beneath her finger pads.

He leans into her, chasing her kiss. His cock nudges her cunt. She shakes at the touch, the anticipation driving her mad.

“I want you inside me now,” she says, throat raw and breath ragged.

“Now?”

“Now.”

He pauses, drawing back. His weight on her vanishes, cold air rushing over her body, and she tilts her head in confusion. He reaches behind him, fingers scrabbling for the small bottle on the bureau, and opens it. He pours the contents into his palm, silky oil shining on his skin, and returns to her. He kisses her, lightly, chastely, his hand fumbling between them. She gasps, lips moving against his, as he massages the oil into her. She is impossibly slick now, pleasure coiling tight.

She murmurs his name, the syllables lost in their kiss. He takes his cock and guides the tip to her entrance, pushing carefully.

The pressure sears. Her stomach tightens, her breath caught in her throat. Pain. A kind she has never felt, one she cannot comprehend. One she does not want to acknowledge.

It is not supposed to hurt, is it?

Is it?

She knows what others have said in passing, a collection of mismatched tales from friends about embarrassing first times and awkward first nights, recounted after there has been too much to drink. Pain if you don’t relax, pleasure if you do. A pinch here, nothing bothersome. Use oils to ease into it. The first time is the worst.

Hilda never had an issue, or so she said. She shrugged indifferently when she mentioned it and downed another pint.

Aureia exhales a breath. This isn’t pain she feels. This is… discomfort. Expected. It will pass soon.

He pushes further. She sucks in a breath, biting the inside of her lip, desperate to control her expression. The sear worsens, a bright, burning pain that can only remind her of her flesh on fire. The night in the Praetorium. Lahabrea in Thancred’s body, the sheer incensed power of his magicks melting her clothing into her back, branding her skin—

She closes her mind. Don’t think of that, don’t think of that.

The stretch is unbearable. Burning, cutting, ripping, as if she is being torn open. She cries out and wraps her arms around Aymeric’s neck, pressing her forehead into his shoulder. “I can’t,” she whimpers. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

At once the stretch is gone and the fire vanishes, though an echo of it remains. Throbbing. Stinging. She scrunches her face, tears panging in her eyes, and clutches desperately at him. Any sense of pleasure is long gone.

“Aureia,” he says gently, confused and concerned. “What is it? What is wrong?”

“I can’t, I can’t, I fucking can’t—”

The bedframe creaks and the mattress sinks, dipping with his weight. Aymeric climbs onto the bed and pulls her into his arms, laying down on the cushions. She curls into him, head buries into the crook of his neck, a hand thrown across his chest, fingernails digging into his shoulder. She trembles, shaking, her throat an awful twisted mess. It would be easier if she could cry—she can live with the embarrassment—but the tears refuse to fall.

He rests a hand on her back, his touch warm. Gentle. Patient. “Did I hurt you?” he asks. “I did not think… I did not know—”

“It wasn’t you.”

He pauses. “Aureia—”

“It’s me. Just another bloody thing about me that can’t be normal.”

Broken. Still. What a great joke from the gods—if it wasn’t her understanding of attraction that was fucked up, then something else had to be.

She exhales a trembling breath and raises her head, wiping useless tears from her eyes. The pain has faded to frustration. To anger. Perhaps it’s her own damn fault, building this moment up in her mind. Of course nothing would come of it. Who was she to expect a moment of blissful happiness?

He falls silent. It is the first time she has seen him truly speechless.

Just say something, Aymeric. Please.

But he does not. Her gut twists, the heat of shame coursing through her. Abruptly, she sits up and swings her legs over the edge of the bed, determined to save herself from her embarrassment.

He catches her arm, his fingers resting gently on her wrist. Her heart leaps into her throat. Shaking, she turns her head and meets his gaze.

Aymeric returns it, steady and resolved. “I said I wished for nothing other than you in my bed tonight,” he says. “Do not go. Please. Stay with me tonight.”

“But…” Her words fail her. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“For… oh gods, fuck.” She sinks back on the bed. The grand four posters stretch high above her, a canopy of blue and gold dark in the candlelight. “I want this. I want this with you. And I can’t do it. I don’t know why.”

He pauses, drawing his knees up into his chest, his back to the headboard. “I wish for it, too,” he says finally. “But that it did not happen is not some great failure on either of our parts. And certainly not on yours. I would not be such a fool as to place so much importance on a single intimate act, though assuredly I have heard otherwise from certain… members of aristocratic society. Those who would pale at the mere mention of alchemical tonics and astrologic magicks in the same breath they mock the serving maid taken advantage of by her lord.”

She rolls onto her side and stares up at him. “I’m sorry.”

“And again I would ask—what for? I am in love with you. There are countless ways to make that love known, ones that would not see you hurt. I would rather lavish you with my fingers and tongue a hundred times than cause you pain. I have heard the braggarts in the barracks, the dastards in the halls, Temple Knights and dragoons both. I have known too many uncharitable men who would put their pleasure above all else and I deem it abhorrent. I will not strive to be one of them.”

She pauses. “But you…”

Aymeric smiles and holds out a hand. She sits up and takes it cautiously, allowing him to pull her into an embrace. She settles next to him, head on his shoulder, her legs curled beneath her. Though she is sore and aching and still sensitive from her near climax, she feels content. Happy. There is a warmth in her belly like a hearth’s fire, burning slow and strong.

He wraps an arm protectively around her. “This is but one night,” he says softly, planting a kiss to her forehead. “The first of many. If this is important to you we shall pursue it, but I do not wish to do so in haste. There is nothing but time ahead of us.”

She threads her fingers with his and leans into him. He is firm and soft and solid, an unwavering presence that she so desperately needs. Sitting here with him, in his chambers, on his bed… It’s such a far cry from the cold alley and its lantern light, pressed roughly between Thancred and a stone hewn wall. A reminder that she is safe with him. That she is better with him. With Aymeric.

She doesn’t know if she could open herself to anyone else.

Aureia sighs and curls up against him, listening the steady rhythm of his heart, the gentle rise of their breath. Outside, rain beats against the windows, drowning out the musical plink of hail hitting the rooftops. Inside, the hearth crackles merrily, chasing away the cold. She stares into the flames, watching the fire dance across the coals in an array of gold and oranges and reds.

“Not the night you were expecting, was it?” she asks after a moment.

A fond chuckle rumbles in the back of his throat. “I expected to spend a full night drafting missives,” he replies. “I imagined it would go like so: at a bell past midnight, Marcel would enter with a fresh pot of tea and depart, doing his best to hold his tongue. At three bells past, my hand would ache and seize. At dawn, Lucia would find me bent over my desk half-asleep and gently scold me for neglecting my well-being. Perhaps even remind me that I am and continue to be sorely dreadful at delegation.”

“Does that happen often?” Her fingers toy with his hand, brushing his palm and wrist.

“More oft than it should.” His kisses the top of her head. “To be perfectly frank, the missives can wait for tomorrow morn. I much prefer this evening to the one I had planned.”

She smiles. “Well, I am very glad that Marcel didn’t try to deliver you that pot of tea. Or he may have witnessed something he would rather not.”

He laughs. “He may be stubborn and set in his ways, but he is keenly observant and respectful in his own way. I suspect he will have words with the staff to stamp out any rumours before they begin.”

Her heart sinks. This is the last thing she wants to think about. “I suppose there will be talk,” she says wearily. “I wish there wouldn’t be—”

“I trust my staff to keep our confidence. The Borel name has not been above scandal and they have some practice keeping their lord’s secrets. Their lips will be sealed.”

She nods, though it does nothing to ease her doubts. He speaks with such certainty that she does not want to argue with him. “Is it selfish of me?” she asks after a moment. She rests a hand against his chest and traces idle circles across his skin. “I don’t want anyone to know about this. About us. Not yet.”

“To want for privacy is not a selfish act.”

“I know, but still—”

“Believe me, Aureia, if there is one thing I have learned from all my years in the public eye, it is that you do not owe anyone the secrets you keep behind doors. That part of you is precious. The public can and will think what they want of you, but you are not obligated to share every last part of yourself.”

She raises her head and meets his eyes, affection blooming in her heart. How does he understand her so well? No matter how deeply she cares for her fellow Scions, none of them could properly conceive the crushing weight on her shoulders as her notoriety grew. The expectations, the assumptions, the rumours. Far less important than hunting primals and Ascian plots.

And so she kisses him. Softly, gently, compelled to show him how much he means to her. He sighs huskily as she deepens the kiss, entranced and enchanted by her touch. Her hands wander across the planes of his chest, mindful of the scars, and an idea takes hold.

“Aymeric,” she murmurs. “There’s still something I want to do. If you’re willing.”

He nuzzles her cheek, his hands stroking her hair. “What is it that you wish?”

“I want to touch you. I want to give you what you gave me tonight.”

He pauses. He knows what she has asked. “There is no need. Giving you pleasure was more than enough to satisfy me, there is no favour to return—”

“I want to.”

Aymeric meets her eyes. He gazes at her softly for a moment, the depths of his affection laid bare, and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. His fingers brush the delicate point. “Then yes,” he says.

A burst of happiness bubbles in her chest. She grins and kisses him, trailing a hand down his chest. Breath hitches in his throat as she slips her hand between his thighs and along the length of his cock. “I don’t know what I’m doing,” she says with a laugh, still entangled in the kiss. She feels no shame nor embarrassment in admitting it. Not with him. She has imagined such things before, but touching another person cannot compare.

His arm wraps around her, holding her tight. “I… I can show you,” he says, breathless already. He closes his eyes, swallowing a grunt of pleasure. “But this is… ‘tis good… ‘tis…”

She strokes him, coaxing a moan from his lips. She can feel him shaking. His hand slides across her back, fingers scraping inadvertently against her scars, but the sensation hardly bothers her. She is too captivated by him to think now. The small trembles as his pleasure builds, the stuttering gasps, the way her name falls voicelessly from his lips… To see him undone by her touch makes her heart flutter.

He groans, dark hair falling damply across his forehead, and catches her hand, pulling it away. She pauses, watching as he spreads the damp wetness from his tip across his shaft and strokes himself.

“Like so,” he murmurs, his voice raw as he tugs and pulls. “‘Tis good… The oil… if you can…”

She has never heard him explain anything in so few words. Determined to follow through, she gives him an aching kiss and pulls away. Seizing the open bottle from the bureau, she coats her fingers and palms in it and returns to the bed, the mattress creaking beneath her weight as she carefully straddles him. He lets go as she takes his cock and drags her hand across it, following his example. He groans, gasping for breath, and leans into her, burying his head in her shoulder. She grins with delight.

She strokes faster now. His hips move, his cock throbbing in her hand. He locks eyes with her and she cannot look away. The way he stares at her—captivated and enraptured, wholly hypnotized by their shared rhythm. For as long as she has known him, he has kept himself tightly controlled, every expression he makes, every word he speaks precise and exact. She can count on one hand the number of times he has let the façade slip, choosing passion over reason.

This moment cannot compare. This moment is beyond. His love for her is ardent, infectious, burning bright. There is nothing in the world now save for her and him. Time slows and they are hanging in the balance together, all worries and concerns and pressures bled away.

A guttural moan rips from his throat.

He seizes her face in his hands, crushing his lips to hers. She kisses him back with delirious yearning and her hand does not stop moving. He cries out, the sound muffled in their kiss, and she pulls him through his climax, letting him spend himself in her hand.

He collapses against her shoulder, trembling and shaking, his breath coming in uneven gasps. She holds him close, stroking her fingers through his hair, and extends her slick hand away from them, careful not to touch the covers. They made more of a mess than she expected.

Aymeric exhales a sigh, stirring against her shoulder. “My thanks,” he says quietly. “My love.”

She kisses his brow. “Yes,” she breathes. “Do you have any idea how happy this has made me?”

He chuckles. With one last kiss, he shifts his weight and she rolls off him, allowing him to rise from the bed. He strides to the bureau and rummages through it, pulling out an old shirt. He cleans himself off and sits on the edge of the mattress, taking her forearm gently in one hand. She watches, startled, as he wipes her hand. After everything they have done tonight, this single gesture is strangely one of the most intimate.

They are silent for a moment, sitting side-by-side with their knees knocking against each other. Aureia leans her head against his shoulder and gazes across the room. The pervasive chill that had settled in the air is long gone, chased away by a fervent heat. Whether it is from the hearth or their activities, it is hard to tell. Perhaps both.

She wonders what comes next now. Should she kiss him and leave, returning to her dingey half-forgotten room in the Forgotten Knight? Perhaps it would be for the best; they would avoid unnecessary explanations about her presence at the manor should anyone call on him tomorrow. But she doesn’t want to leave. She wants to stay. She wants nothing more than to curl up with him beneath the covers, embrace him, hold him, burrow against his warmth. She seeks his touch, but it is no longer one of desire—it is one of comfort and safety and affection and…

Something else she cannot say.

You should ask. Just ask. Do you think he’s going to ask you to leave? Kick you out into the freezing rain?

“Aureia?” Aymeric is looking at her, concern in his eyes. Nothing gets past him, it seems. “Are you… are you well?”

She rests a hand against his forearm, fingers clasping his wrist. His pulse beats against the pad of her thumb. “I am,” she says.

He bunches up the shirt and lets it fall to the floor. A heavy pause before he speaks, as if he is considering his words carefully. “Do you have regrets tonight?” he asks hesitantly.

“Regrets? No. Gods, no. Never.”

“I ask only because I wish to have certainty—”

A realization clicks in her mind. He’s called you my love. Gods, Aureia, you need to say something back.

“—though even as I say so, I would not ask you to shoulder or assuage my personal fears. You are dear to me. More than any other. That is a truth I would proclaim from the seat of Halone herself if I must. I do not wish for this to be the only night I share with you. I would look to tomorrow. And the day after. And every day that is yet to come.”

Her heart pounds. Deep within her, she can feel the creeping anxiety crawling back in. She has done so much to keep it at bay, but she cannot stave it off forever. What has she done to deserve someone like Aymeric? Someone warm, patient, and unashamed of how much he loves her. Who has done nothing but shown her honesty from the very beginning. There is a raw earnestness to his affection, one that envelopes her and protects her and shields her from harm.

But even a shield can be used to suffocate. There is a part of her twisted up with fear, wondering whether this is too much too soon. Too fast. He is in love with her, that is for certain, and he is dear to her. But she doesn’t know if she loves him in return.

Not yet.

And so she takes his hand and twines their fingers together in her lap, her gaze refusing to leave his. “Coming here tonight was one of the best decisions I have ever made,” she says firmly. “I want this, Aymeric. I want to be with you. How could I regret the choices that led to that?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to her forehead. “I am being foolish, am I not?”

“We all have our moments.”

She embraces him, wrapping an arm around him, and snuggles against his chest. Her hand brushes by the scar above his navel, gentle against the red and knotted tissue. Where had she been that night? Caught in a snowstorm on the outskirts of Falcon’s Nest during the long journey back to Ishgard with Thancred in tow, straining herself to conjure enough fire-aspected aether to keep them warm and alive. He was different then, not the jaded, bitter mess he has turned himself into. Though now she wonders how much of it was a façade. He listened attentively while she informed him of everything that had happened after his disappearance. Perhaps his uncharacteristic silence and lack of customary quips and jests was a sign.

When did it go so terribly wrong between them? He may be alive and breathing, but some days… some days she feels she has lost a friend as surely as if he had died.

Aureia exhales softly and puts the thought from her mind. She is not—cannot concern herself with him anymore. Not when there is someone who cares so ardently for her in her life now.

She sits there with Aymeric for a moment longer, the pull of sleep lulling them into a gentle stupor. When he strokes her hair and kisses the top of her head, it is the only invitation she needs. They find their way beneath the covers, tangled together against soft cushions and between silky sheets. She curls into him and rests her head against his chest, one leg thrown over him as she holds him tight. His heart pounds against her ear, in rhythm with her own.

“Aymeric?” she murmurs, voice muffled.

His fingers twine in her hair. “Hm?”

“I… I love you.”

Her stomach twists the moment her words leave her lips, even as he pulls her tight and presses a kiss to her mouth. Is it a lie? A fabrication? A half-truth? She doesn’t know. The puzzle of her life is too complex, her emotions too snarled and tangled to make any sense. Right now, in this moment, she is desperate for the ease of simplicity for once in her life.

He loves her. Nothing is simpler than that. And if telling him that she loves him in return brings him joy, then she is satisfied with that. A white lie that will become a truth.

Some day.

One day.

That is the best she can do for now.

A note & some thoughts: The condition Aureia displays in this chapter is called primary provoked vulvar vestibulodynia and affects around 1 in 6 AFAB people at some point in their lifetime. It occurs when the pelvic floor muscles spasm in a protective guarding response. There is no specific cause (and not necessarily a result of sexual trauma, as some gynecologists assume it to be). The is an involuntary reaction of the nervous system, making penetrative sex extremely painful or physically impossible. Symptoms can be relieved or reduced through physical therapy with a pelvic floor specialist, but relapse is very common. There is a taboo discussing pain during sex, at least in western cultures. We’re still in an age of “lie back and let it pass”—it’s easy to dismiss pain as something insignificant that goes away with enough arousal or lube, or to just force your way through it for the sake of your partner. It is distressing to want to have sex in a particular way, but to be physically unable to do so. And with cisgender M/F couples, penetration is often the climactic sex act, the one everything builds towards with everything else counting as foreplay. Erotica—especially in fanfic—is often a fantasy. Fall in love with the right person, have mind-blowing sex with them. But I think it is neat to expand on what can be included in that fantasy, and explore different aspects of communication, love, pleasure, and respect in the context of sex. Sometimes that includes when things go wrong or when an unexpected issue arises. This is one of the more vulnerable sex scenes I have written since many of Aureia’s struggles hit a personal note for me. But it was very cathartic to get this down on paper. Thank you for reading. 🖤

#ffxiv #ff14 #final fantasy 14 #ffxiv fic #ffxiv fanfiction #wolmeric #aymeric x wol #aymeric de borel #aureia malathar #ffxiv wol #oc tag #writing tag #long post #some day i'm going to find tumblr's word count limit on a text post lolololol

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skiesofrosie · 5 days

Text

a beautiful moon

pairing: floyd talbert x f!reader

genre: angst ;(

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

The moon wavers in its reflection against the river, and that’s how you think he sees you.

But it truly dawns upon you, when he says this–

“I can’t love you right now.”

As fleeting as the summer, as quick as the sweat that dribbles down your face, he leaves you. The past two months with the softness of his touch, and the promise in his whispers, flees. He gave you light in your darkness, found you stuck in a draught and released a downpour with his love.

And in giving him so much, what is left is anger to bubble in your throat. “Just another girl to warm your bed, huh?”

“That’s not fair,” he mutters, “I wouldn’t have spent all this time with you–”

“Then what exactly was the point?” you cut him off, and his brows pinch in frustration.

“Answer me, Tab.” He flinches when you raise your voice. “What was I then to you?”

Love is fickle, you realize. No matter what someone feels, the unraveling of the string that wraps around two people all bows down to choice. You hoped he would choose you, because you wouldn’t have even thought twice.

But he doesn’t. Ever since he squeezed into your life, persistence in the way he kept returning to your family’s pub, where you worked as a waitress. Ever since he charmed you with his wits the first time you agreed to dinner, and when you trusted him enough weeks later to let his hands roam your skin–you were foolish to ignore the way he never defined him and you. You allowed yourself to hope, simply because he was as beautiful as moonlight.

Gone were the days you took him to your favorite park, your secret hideout where he kissed you for the first time. Gone with the wind, were his whispers of you’re beautiful.

You should’ve known he would never truly meet you eye to eye. Not in this world, at least.

“I cherish every moment,” Tab whispers, “but I’m going to leave England, and it's just...it’s not the right time.”

You grit your teeth. “Get out of my house Tab.”

“Hey–” but you give him no space.

“Leave me alone Floyd!”

He stills in his movements, looks to the door and back to you with a fallen expression, and for a moment you feel guilt. You know the world is plagued with bigger demons, but you had hoped, in this little corner of the world he would see you as a slice of heaven. But no, Floyd Talbert, he would always chase the stars, and you were just a little piece of the ground that accepted his downpour, whenever the skies mourned.

As he saunters to the door, you feel a breath held in your chest, awaiting the moment where he will disappear from your life. He hesitates, and you can see the slight tremble in his hands, and the way his eyes fall close for a moment. You want nothing but to give him some warmth, but right now, you choose to be selfish, because he’s leaving you.

He turns his head slightly. “In another world, I’d choose you.”

(But in this one, it will never be).

As he shuts the door behind him, you expect yourself to break. But this love with him barely had its time to bloom, crushed by the gods before it even had a chance. So, you hardly know how to even react. All you know, as you begin dusting your tables and sweeping your floors, is that the tightness in your chest remains.

“I’d already chosen you,” you whimper to yourself.

And when summer arrives again, you will remember him as your beautiful moon.

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆

a/n: in my mind, talbert goes back to find reader. but mr. talbert has lots and lots of groveling to do. ;)

#band of brothers #floyd talbert #floyd talbert x reader #band of brothers x reader

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burning-fcols · 13 days

Text

Travis can't help it. He doesn't like what he's seeing & why should he? Anthony was practically hanging all over that cat looking guy! Drooling by the looks of it! It stirs something ugly in the pit of his stomach & a growl bubbles from the back of his throat. Yes, Angel is a porn star, yes he was bound to flirt. But to where he could see it? When it wasn't even for work? That guy looked like he was getting genuine flirts & that alone wasn't fucking fair! After all he cared for Anthony. Was even going so far as to having his back during a tough work day & this was what he got to see in turn? Hands are clenched into tight fists as he waits until the other guy left the scene before striding up to Angel, looking clearly torn between angry & just disappointed. "You've got some fucking nerve. Who is he, huh?" ( uh-oh :'3 -sends another jelly bean- ) - ✧ ˖ ˙ 「 @Qᴜᴇꜱᴛɪᴏɴᴀʙʟᴇᴍᴜꜱᴇꜱ 」 ˙ ˖ ✧

「 ☆ 」 Ever since that first after-work conversation with Travis— a genuine, surprisingly non-creepy one —things have been changing between them. Not intentionally; Angel is smart enough not to seek a listening ear from the guy whose life mission is to get back in the porn star’s pants. That’s just asking for obnoxious attempts at manipulation. But Travis is a persistent sort. Only lately, his relentlessness has reared its head in ways that DON’T make Angel want to rip out the other’s feathers. Who would have thought Travis could be kinda sweet when not drooling all over the place? In a way that, reluctant as Angel is to fully believe it, doesn’t seem fake.

Still laced with selfish intent ( as things always are ) but— crazy as it sounds —it feels more like he’s being romanced than seduced. As if the crazy avian thinks he has a shot at MORE than another fuck. As if Angel could ever be allowed to pursue more, even if he wanted to. Which he doesn’t. He can’t. Not letting himself entertain such stupid hypotheticals, Angel had tried to leave such troubles BEHIND him along with the work day. But apparently, he wouldn't be allowed even that reprieve.

Startling at the unexpected newcomer, Angel abruptly stops before he can follow Husk through the doors of the hotel. Having ran into the bartender taking a breather outside— needing to get away from whatever bat-shittery was going on in the lobby —Angel hadn't wasted the opportunity for good-natured flirting banter. Hoping to distract himself from the headache of a Director he THOUGHT he left behind and fervently trying to ignore how his actions felt more playful than serious. How interacting with Husk ( despite being a comfort ) didn't elicit the same... confusing tightness in Angel's chest. One would think that'd be a good thing.

It's not.

Tensing, he rolls his eyes with a mutter of ❝ Stai scherzando, cazzo. ❞ before sharply turning on his heel to face Travis. Speaking louder so the other can hear, fur bristles as he emits an indignant scoff and dryly retorts, ❝ Oh— I've got some fuckin' nerve? Big talk comin' from th' STALKA' on my fuckin' doorstep. ❞ Fists clenched at his sides, one arm dramatically sweeps across himself as if motioning in the direction of the V Tower, ❝ What, suffocatin' me durin' work ain't good enough fer ya anymore? You gotta stick yer beak inta my business here 'cause I won't let ya stick yer dick inta my ass THERE? ❞

Bitterly barking out a laugh, Angel crosses his arms and questions through a sardonic smile, ❝ Or are ya here on ❛ official bus'ness ❜ ? Hmm? Y'doin' th' Vees dirty work like a loyal li'l bitch? Did one of THEM send ya here ta ruin my fuckin' night. ❞ Frankly, he doubts it. If Valentino wanted something, his phone would be blowing up. Vox likely would have sent one of his other assistants. Someone less liable to get distracted from the task at hand... and Velvette isn't the type to work through people who aren't directly under HER influence. But Angel spats out the accusation regardless, hoping to remind Travis exactly WHAT connects them.

They both happen to belong to the same shitty group of people. Nothing more.

He purposely ignores the question about Husk— he's not about to throw around specific names to someone with a jealous demeanor and access to Valentino —hoping to throw Travis off-balance enough for him to neglect to realize he didn't actually get an answer. 「 ☆ 」

#hari don't look #(( *puts this early when things were Starting to go good because UwU* ))#burning-fcols #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴀɴᴛʀᴀ; ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴍʏ ʟɪꜰᴇ ❞ ¦ 「 Angel Dust IC 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ʟᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ʟᴇᴀᴠᴇ ᴍʏ ꜱᴏᴜʟ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʀɴ; ᴀɴᴅ ɪ'ʟʟ ʙᴇ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜɪɴɢ ɪᴛ ɪɴ ❞ ◌ ᴍᴀɪɴ ¦ 「 Angel Dust 」#questionablemuses #⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ɪᴛ’ꜱ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴜɴᴅʀᴇꜱꜱ ʀᴇʜᴇᴀʀꜱᴀʟ ❞ ¦ 「 Travis 」#♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜱᴄᴇɴᴇ’ꜱ ᴀʙᴏᴜᴛ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴛᴀʀᴛ; ɪ ᴅᴏ ʙᴇʟɪᴇᴠᴇ ɪ ᴄᴀɴ ꜱᴇᴇ ʏᴏᴜ’ʀᴇ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴀʀ ❞ ¦ 「 Angel Dust and Travis 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ꜱᴏ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱʙᴇʜᴀᴠᴇ? ɪᴛ’ꜱ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏʙᴏᴅʏ ᴄʀᴀᴠᴇꜱ ❞ ¦ 「 Answer 」#⭒ ˙ ˖ ✧ — ˗ˏˋ ❝ ᴡʜᴇɴ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ꜱᴏᴍᴇʙᴏᴅʏ ɢᴏɴᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴡᴀɪᴛ ᴛᴏᴏ ʟᴏɴɢ— ❞ ¦ 「 Queue 」

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barkspawn · 1 year

Note

lol then can we get "i love you, no matter what that means to you, i'm going to take care of you, even if you dont want me to" prompt from the romantic quotes prompt list with elliott? <3 i love your writing

Thank you, I'll never get used to the fact that people like my stuff. it's wild.

and tbh, I'm realizing the things I enjoy writing the most, which is suuuuuuuuuuuper helpful. so thank YOU and the others who send in prompts.

Amelia had been struggling for the past few weeks. Her depression took a turn for the worse when she heard of her father falling ill and after receiving a spiteful email from an old "friend" explaining how selfish and idiotic she was for leaving the city. It was hurtful enough to wear her down.

Amelia was keeping up with the crops okay and was trying extra hard to make the animals happy. She knew he was picking on her, but when Shane visited with a new chick and made a comment about how the crops seemed small and dinky, she felt herself hit a low. She knew he'd feel horrible if he knew, so she decided not to tell him.

Elliott was an entirely different situation. They'd been together for a year and a half and she couldn't stomach letting him see her like this. He knew something was wrong right away and decided to give her space for a few days, deciding today to be a little more persistent.

Amelia looked down at her phone as it rang. She sat on the couch with her knees drawn to her chest, just staring at the rustic painting on the wall in thought. The third time the phone started to ring she sighed, answering the call.

"Hello?" She winced, not even recognizing her own voice.

"Hey, love," Elliott started, trying to keep his tone as normal as possible, even if he was sick with worry, "I've missed you. I was thinking I'll bring some food to you this evening. We'll curl up and watch a movie."

The idea seemed nice to her, but she genuinely believed it wasn't what she deserved. Before thinking, she spoke, "Actually, I wanted to talk to you, El. Can you come by soon?"

He paused for a long moment before answering, "of course. I'll leave now. I love you."

"I love you too," she responded too quickly, hanging up and letting tears fall as a sob escaped her. This is how it had to be.

Elliot was a brilliant man with a bright and happy future ahead of him. She could not let herself be the one responsible for holding him back. It wouldn't be fair. She loved him with her whole being, which is why she had to stop this. He deserved so much more.

After a moment, she stood to clean herself up, pacing until she heard his footsteps on the porch. He gave a light knock before opening the door, his smile brightening up the entire room. He looked as handsome as ever, a small container that could only be from the saloon in his hands. His smile and his general presence lifted her spirits a bit. For a moment, she wondered if this was a mistake. Quickly, she resolved that it needed to be done. It was for him, not her.

Closing the door behind him, he set the food on the counter and moved to wrap his arms around her in a tight, loving hug that broke her heart. When she didn't hug him back, he pulled back, his hands on her shoulders.

"Amelia? What's on your mind?" He searched her face, not oblivious to her tear-stained eyes and cheeks. She took a shaky breath and closed her eyes.

"Elliott, I don't think we should see each other anymore."

His hands fell from her shoulders as he looked over her face once more. Something was wrong and she wasn't okay. He knew that. Still, his heart ached.

"I see," he responded after a long moment, "may I ask if it is something I've done or-"

"No, no, El," she interjected, tears unable to be stopped, "You've been perfect in every way.. I just can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending I'm right for you when I'm so clearly not."

He flinched at that, cursing his own eyes for going misty, "if that is what you want, Amelia, I will not fight you. I am never far.. should you need me for anything."

He made his way to the door before stepping through, the sob that came from behind the door ripping his heart to pieces more than her leaving him ever could.

His chest tight and his eyes red, he turned back to town.

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Elliott sat at the small fire outside of his shack, checking his phone for the millionth time before sighing and shoving it in his pocket. He poured the rest of the wine into his glass, noticing a dark figure at the end of the pier as he went to take a drink. When he focused, he saw it was Sebastian, sitting quietly on the edge.

Elliott stood, glass in hand, and headed down the end of the pier to stand behind the younger man.

"Sebastian, right?"

Sebastian looked up at him, sarcastic remark locked and loaded, but bit it back as he saw the man's face. Elliott was a little bit of a mess himself. Sebastian just nodded and stared back toward the ocean.

"You.. you're Amelia's friend, aren't you?"

"I mean, yeah," Sebastian started, his expression twisted in confusion, "why, aren't you her boyfriend?"

Elliott looked down at his glass, tracing the rim, "as of this morning, no. I'm not."

Sebastian deflated, frowning as he moved aside for Elliott to sit. He really didn't care enough about Elliott in the equation, but about how Amelia was. They'd been best friends for a year and she was head over heels for this guy.

"Sorry to hear, man," he stared ahead, his frown deeper still than usual.

"Me too," Elliott started as he sat beside him, "I just.. I wanted to ask you," his voice was quiet, almost feeling guilty for asking, "have you spoken with her in the last few days?"

Sebastian turned to give the man a confused look before his expression softened, "yeah, I guess. She canceled plans we had and she said she wasn't feeling good. Why?"

Elliott pinched the bridge of his nose, "when I saw her today, it was like she was a different person," he started, voice still shaking, "she was cold and distant. But she looked like she hadn't been eating or something of the like," he paused again, turning to look at the other man, "I'm worried about her."

Sebastian's brow knit together as he stared, deep in thought, "and, if you're cool with telling me, what did she say?"

"She said she couldn't do it anymore. She told me it wasn't me and that I was great.. she said she wasn't right for me."

Sebastian sat and thought for a long moment, frowning before he sighed, "I know her dad is sick," Elliott nodded, his frown growing deeper, "and she got this letter from an old friend. She wouldn't tell me more.." Elliott sighed as Sebastian turned to look at him, "did she seem depressed? Like what you see in those shitty commercials, but real and not forced?"

Elliott thought for a long moment. He thought about every word she said, how she seemed so tired and thin, and how she looked and sounded.

"Yeah, it was a lot like that."

"There's your answer, dude," he pulled out his cigarettes, "I'll check on her later, but she adores you. She was talking about it last week ."

Somehow, Elliott felt worse hearing that. He gave a small nod, taking a long drink of his wine, frowning as the dregs swirled around the bottom of his glass.

"Is it an awful idea to reach out to her the day she left me?"

Sebastian nodded, taking a long drag of his cigarette, "I'll swing by tonight. I have your number and I'll text you how she is. Swing by in the morning and just… do your poetic… artistic… romantic shit."

Elliott gave a small chuckle before shifting to stand up, "thank you, Sebastian. I'm very glad to have gotten your insight."

── ⋅ ⋅ ── ✩ ── ⋅ ⋅ ──

Elliott woke up earlier than he usually would have, gathering some different things to take with him to the farm. He created a care package of sorts, picking up her favorite hot tea, some ingredients for different meals he knew she loved, a pair of his most comfortable pajamas (as he couldn't go and buy her a new set before going over), and a journal. He had opened up to a few pages, writing little affirmations on some pages.

He felt horrible for not recognizing how much she was suffering. He'd been there before, but not in a long time. Once he gathered everything, he sighed, heading toward the farm.

As he made his way there, his confidence waned a bit as he grew closer. He hoped she wouldn't be mad at him for coming, but Sebastian's text made it pretty clear that Elliott coming over would help her, so it was the plan. He walked up the steps, taking his time before knocking lightly on the door.

His heart dropped as he saw her open the door. She was exhausted and pale like she hadn't slept for days.

"Elliott?" She started, her voice cracking.

"May I come in?" He gestured to the bag he held with all of the stuff he had. She paused for a long moment before sighing and opening the door, allowing him to pass.

"I'm not sure why you'd come," she frowned, her arms wrapping around herself, "I'm not your responsibility. You don't have to care anymore."

He gave her a gentle look as he placed the bag down before walking over to her, his voice quiet but firm, "Amelia, I can see you're struggling. Whether or not being with me is a part of you getting better, I love you, no matter what that means to you," he started, shifting to gesture to the bag, "I'm going to take care of you, even if you don't want me to. Because you should never be alone when you feel this way, no one should."

Her gaze fell to the floor as she failed to stop her tears from falling. After a long moment, she gave a small nod.

"I'll never force it, but tell me if you should like a hug. Sometimes such a small– oof," he was cut off as she wrapped her arms around his waist almost too tightly. He wrapped his arms around her, hugging her back with as much emotion as he could show. He felt her shaking, like a string had snapped that was holding her up, leaving her a crying mess in his arms. His heart broke for her, but he was so glad he was here.

They stayed like that for an incredibly long time before he pulled back to grab the pajamas from the bag and brought them to her.

"Go ahead and take a nice, hot shower. I'll make you some food. You can call me if you need me."

After a few hours, she had eaten, explained everything, and broke down once more in his arms. He just sat beside her, intently listening as she cried and spoke. She couldn't seem to look at him when she finished.

"Amelia, that woman who sent that is no friend. She is simply jealous that you were able to escape and make a new life for yourself," he started, moving to take her hand but stopping himself, "and I'm so sorry about your father. If you'd like me to be, I'll be here every step of the way. If you want me to remain at a distance, Sebastian will definitely be here as well."

She wiped away a new wave of tears, letting herself lean into him once more, "I love you more than anything. I know it's not my place to say it, but I can't just not tell you how loved you truly are."

After a long moment, she stood on her toes and pressed a small, painfully gentle kiss to Elliott's lips.

"I.. don't want to leave you, El..," she started, "I just can't stand the idea of holding you back or bringing you down.."

The small kiss gave him the push to take her hands in his, "you couldn't do either of those things if you tried. I'm right here if you still want me. And even if you don't, for that matter. I won't leave your side until I know that you're okay and happy. Now, would you like to watch a horrible movie?"

She cracked a small smile for the first time in days before pulling him into one more tight hug.

"You deserve so much better than me, you know," she sighed, "I've always considered you out of my league, but-"

"None of that," he pulled back, hushing her, "you deserve the world and I intend on giving that to you, whether you believe me or not because I love you."

She stared up at him, her smile growing for the first time in days, "I love you, El," she shook her head, "thank you for not… giving up. It would have been the biggest mistake I'd ever made.."

"So you don't want to stop seeing me?" He couldn't help the hope in his voice, relaxing when she shook her head. He continued, "I'm happier to hear that than I can begin to show," he smiled and pulled back toward the couch, "now shall we watch shoddy animatronics try to fight each other?"

She laughed, the feeling almost unfamiliar, as she moved to curl up beside him on the couch with a blanket.

This is where she belonged and she was endlessly glad he didn't give up on her.

With people who care for her this much, how could she not see herself being okay?

She rest her head on his shoulder, laughing at the movie with her hand in his.

#elliott #elliott sdv #sdv elliott #sdv #sdv fanfic #stardew valley fanfic #stardew #stardew valley #elliott stardew valley #oh look a one-shot #barkspawn oneshot

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whats-rambled-rambled · 2 years

Text

Posterity - part 3

Neil x gn!Reader

Chapter 3: Confidant

(see chapter 2, 1)

summary: one of the teams gets caught in an ambush, and you have to deal with the aftermath

warnings: swearing, angst, mentions of death and grief

author’s note: would you look at that, it took me 3 chapters to get to proper angst! I think nobody is surprised at this point. But that seemed like such a vital part of the Reader’s job to cover, and it had to be done at one point or another.

✨hurt/comfort✨

3,8k words

The song for this chapter is Blakey - Confidant

Your feedback warms my heart and keeps me going, I’m so grateful to have you all around.

Enjoy! And as always - let me know what you think?

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taglist: @hollandorks @neilsgirl91 @thecraziestcrayon @sunnyitwillbe @eravanaaaah @blue-aconite @mcrmarvelloki

-----

“Posterity, this is Jenkins. We’re fucked. I repeat - we’re fucked.”

“Understood, sending the Cavalry to your location –”

“NO! Don’t....we’re already dead. Just tell the others about the ambush. This place is rigged and crawling with antags.”

“Copy. Help is on the way, Agent, sit tight. Are you hurt? ”

“Walked straight into this… ah shit. Yeah, got hit pretty bad.”

“Hold on just a little while longer.”

“No need, Operator. T’was pleasure, guys. Come here you motherfu-...”

“Agent…?”

“...”

Come in, Agent.”

“...”

“Agent Jenkins, are you there?”

“...”

“...goddamnit.”

—

The office was quiet. Empty. It was better that way, you couldn’t imagine going through this part of the job with an audience of any kind.

Of course, it was not the first time it had happened. Sometimes, there wasn’t much you could do, and even having the full medical team dispatched with the backup was not enough to save everyone.

You sighed, opening another file.

Most operators went through it at some point in their careers. Multiple points, most likely.

Everyone coped with it in their own way. Some people took a day off. Some went straight to the nearest bar as soon as they clocked out. You? You always asked for another shift, to be the one to process the paperwork. It seemed only fair.

The first time someone died on your call… it had been rough. As in throwing up in the bathroom and sobbing for a solid quarter rough. That was how your boss had found you, then took you to his office and talked you through it, enough to calm you down so you hadn’t quit on him right there and then.

You couldn’t say it’d gotten easier. Could it ever? You’d built walls to protect yourself. You’d learned to keep your distance. You’d focused on the things you were still able to do. On the bigger picture. But even then, when you were left alone in the office with the fallen agents looking at you from your screen, there was an ache in your chest, making you struggle to take a deeper breath.

Another timeline. Not too complicated - must have belonged to a rookie.

That was another kind of pain. Every one of those people had their whole future ahead of them, but those wide-eyed newlings always had so much light in them.

It was a rare thing to see it shining bright in someone after a few years spent in the field.

You glanced at your phone.

It was persistently silent.

You hadn’t heard from Neil, aside from the calls during business hours. The requests kept on coming with the usual cheeky politeness, and you were glad nothing had changed after that party.

One little thing had, however.

You caught yourself missing his voice when you hadn’t heard from him for too long.

Even more reasons to be grateful that he respected your boundaries, right?

Everything was in order. You closed the loop, added all the needed annotations, and changed the status of the operative to KIA.

Next file.

You read the name on the screen and your palms got sweaty. You chewed on your lip, trying to level your shallow breath. The shots rang in your ears again. And that scream, the last cry of a man going out with guns blazing. Hellbent on taking down with him as many antagonists as possible.

Of course, you remembered his first call. How he stuttered nervously, cursing every other word, and then solemnly apologized for it. The confidence gained over the next months reflected in his record as he’d earned a leadership position in his own squad. He made sure to mention it during his next call, and you couldn’t help but feel a little proud.

“T’was pleasure, guys.”

You wiped a trembling hand through your face and exhaled slowly. The gnawing in your chest was becoming unbearable.

Maybe that was why, against your better judgment, you grabbed your phone.

The reason kicked back in the second you heard the line ringing, but as you were about to hang up, you heard a sleepy voice:

“Are you really calling or am I still dreaming?”

You cringed and rewarded your stupidity with a hearty facepalm. What the hell were you doing?

“Oh god, I woke you–- I’m sorry, I don’t even know what time it is.” A wave of embarrassment tangled both your thoughts and your tongue. “It-it’s nothing, go back to sleep.”

“No, no, no, it’s okay. Just something new.” Neil grunted lightly. “What’s going on?”

You drew a deep breath, then let it out with a barely audible shudder.

“This kind of day, huh?” His sad chuckle made the tip of your nose tingle, even more so when you heard the softness in his voice as he urged you gently, “Talk to me. What happened?”

“You heard about Malmö?” you asked, hoping you wouldn’t be the one to deliver the news.

“Yeah, I spoke to Ives a couple hours ago. Six of ours down?”

You swallowed with effort.

“It’s eight now.”

“Jesus,” he sighed breathlessly.

“I was on a call with a guy from that team.” You frowned at yourself. He deserved more than a nameless mention. “With Jenkins.” Better. Shifting in your seat, you continued, pushing out one strained word after another. “Now I have paperwork to process and I’m closing all the loops– wait, you know about the loops?”

“May have an idea, but tell me more.”

“The numbers you give us when you log in, right? Imagine them put onto a giant timeline.” You glanced at your screen, at Jenkins’ one already loaded up. “That’s how we keep an eye on you, we can check if the time loop you entered has closed properly, or if you are still in the middle of one. It’s more complicated, but also not as much?” A nervous laugh escaped your lips when you realized you were rambling, as you always did when it came to aspects of the job you were quite fascinated with. “It would be easier to show you. I think you’d appreciate the design, it’s pretty neat.”

“Sounds like it.”

There was a hint of a smile hiding in Neil’s tone, and it was enough to give you the strength to carry on into the more difficult part.

“Anyway, aside from the calls, requests, and routine checks on agents with long inactivity in the system, I’m also responsible for updating the files. When something happens…,” - you forced another deep breath in - “that means double-checking the loops and a lot of time spent looking at their timelines. Seeing their journeys, from the very start… It’s never easy.”

Neil hummed sympathetically. “I can imagine. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah. It hurts, even if I only knew them as voices in my headphones.” You sighed, dropping your gaze again. “It’s hard not to get attached to people.”

“Oh.”

The sudden realization in the expression curled a corner of your mouth into a sad smirk. “You know where I’m going with this, huh?”

“Possibly.” He weighed his words. “That’s why you keep us at arm's length?”

You scoffed softly. “That’s why I try.”

“And not calling us by our names? Part of it, too?” he said and the curious notes in his tone suggested he’d been sitting on this thought for a while. “It’s not the protocol, I checked.”

You shook your head, not so surprised he’d picked on that, too. He was perceptive, he had to be in his profession.

“It’s not, you’re right.”

“Hm.”

“Doesn’t make sense to you?” you asked with quiet resignation. You wouldn’t blame him if it didn’t. Although you weren’t sure if you had it in you to defend yourself. Not today. Not against him.

Fortunately, you didn’t have to.

“No, I understand why you do it, but…” He hesitated, and you cut in:

“But you don’t approve.”

He smacked his tongue and stifled a sigh. “That’s not it.”

Suddenly, you realized he was holding back an opinion, mindful not to overstep.

“What is it then?” To soothe his apprehension, you let a shade of smile into your voice “Make your case.”

“Thank you, your honor,” said Neil, tongue-in-cheek. Then, it was his turn to take a deeper breath, as if he was grounding himself, preparing to share something more personal. “I know how it feels to lose someone you care about. The emptiness that comes with it. Almost physical pain that follows.” He faltered, lost in a memory for a short while, then continued more softly, “It’s scary. Hence the need to protect yourself from it. Especially with the certain danger written into our job. I understand. Only, at the same time… the world can be a shitty place, and having people around, those who get the metaphorical it...who get you.. not only makes life easier. It makes it all that better.”

You sighed and propped the forehead on your knuckles, blankly staring down.

“I know.”

A short, knowing hum. “But it’s not enough to outweigh the possible pain, because what if it ends?”

You tightened the grip on your phone as the lump in your throat grew bigger.

“Exactly.”

“It doesn’t take all those things away from you. What’s happened’s happened. And it’s yours, forever. All you got to experience together, all those little moments you shared, the emotions that warmed you whenever you needed. They stay. Even if the person is no longer with you.”

A tear plopped on the desk and you wiped it with your sleeve, then squeezed your eyes shut, swallowing with effort.

Meanwhile, Neil continued, and every quiet sentence carried immense compassion and warmth. “I know it hurts. Life’s short, but that’s also what makes it all worth it. You deserve to be happy.” He paused for a bit, then added, “That can also mean playing it safe.” He chuckled lightly. “The choice is yours. And I rest my case.”

The last remark made you laugh, but the sound came out with a sob. “Damn, I’m sorry,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I hear you, yeah.”

“Are you okay?”

There was nothing but concern on the other end of the line, and your heart clenched painfully.

“I am. Hit close to home, that’s all.” You frowned and sighed, a little embarrassed. “I like the way you look at it.”

You really did. Although, you weren’t quite sure you would be able to rewire yourself like that. Even if you really wanted to.

“Just give it a thought, okay? Nothing more.”

That you could do. “I will, I promise,” you said, lips curling in a gentle smile. “Thank you for this. And for letting me vent.”

“Of course. Anytime.” There was this light in his words again, and you knew he really meant it. “Are you going home soon?”

Looking back at your screen, you quickly went over the tasks on your to-do list. “I have two operatives left to…debrief. Gonna take a while.” You heard a stifled grunt as if Neil was stretching and was trying not to let it show, and it made you remember the start of your conversation. And made you very self-conscious because of it. “I’m sorry, I’m keeping you awake, go back to bed.”

“I am in bed,” he said, all smug about it. “And I don’t mind.”

The image in your head, complimented by the ever so slight switch in his tone, suddenly made you flustered. Heat crept up your cheeks as you cleared your throat.

“I’d love to keep chatting then, but I should really get back to work.” Saying it aloud brought back the heaviness to your shoulders. However, there was enough calmness inside you now, as if some of the load had dissolved once you’d shared it, and you were ready to face the task again.

“It was great to hear your voice.”

You wanted to point out that it hadn’t been that long since your last talk, but that was not what he had in mind. The implication resonated deeply, and you could only say, “Yours too.”

The silence that fell was loaded, but not for too long. Neil was first to break the spell, audibly cracking up at something.

“What is it?”

“I’m sorry, I was waiting for you to call me agent again.”

Oh. You snickered, shaking your head.

“It got stuck in my throat, believe it or not.”

“We could stick to darling if you'd like."

A grin brightened your face as you scoffed in disbelief. "You think it's less personal than a name?"

"I think it can be whatever we need it to be.” You could almost picture him shrugging lightly, with those playful sparks shining in his eyes. "All words are made up, anyway."

“Sure,” you snorted, unable to find a counter to that.

“No pressure. I’m happy you called.”

“Me too,” you sighed softly, the warmth slowly spreading through your chest. “Thanks again and good night…darling.”

“Blimey.” No teasing. No mocking. Pure amusement. And something else, you couldn’t quite figure out yet. “Take care, darling. Good night.”

It wasn’t one if you looked at it as a whole.

The one part that was, however, was enough to carry you through the rest of it. Through the paperwork, and through saying goodbye to the agents.

Because for the first time in years, you allowed yourself to grieve.

Over the people. Over the things that had been. Over the ones that could have been.

And over those that would never be.

—

That extra shift meant entering another day in some sort of zombie mode.

The exhaustion from the lack of sleep amplified the emotional fatigue, putting you in a nice, numb state, and letting you sail through the first few hours of work without too much damage. It wasn’t zen, no, not with that hollow feeling still present inside. But you knew it would pass, eventually, and being able to jump back into routine activities would only help with that.

The team knew the drill. Business as usual.

One call. A couple of reports. A bit of research. Five answered messages. Another call.

Time went by, and soon you were off on a break, grabbing a quick lunch in a canteen.

The elevator opened with a quiet ping, and you went into the corridor leading to the office, already juggling through the possible solutions to one of the pending requests in your mind. Then, you noticed a figure in a familiar dark navy overcoat and you stopped, any thought process ceasing instantly as well.

Perhaps it was easy to forget you were actually working together, like– physically, occasionally in the same building, even.

All because meeting any operative on your floor was highly improbable.

And it bordered on the security breach.

That was definitely why your heart was beating so fast all of the sudden. No other reason.

Neil was standing right next to your door, a reusable cup in one hand, a phone in the other, looking as if was battling with himself over something.

“Are you lost, darling?” you asked, squinting suspiciously, incapable of hiding a smile already dangling in a corner of your mouth.

He found your gaze, bewildered, but quickly schooled his features and grinned at you.

“Not anymore,” he said and slid the phone into his pocket as you made your way to him. There was a fleeting moment of hesitation when both of you wondered what was the greeting protocol in the current state of affairs, but it took the smallest cue from him and you walked straight into his arms.

The hug was tight. Warm. Bringing back the memories. Overriding reason.

That was why you had to pull away, even though you wanted nothing more but to lose yourself in his embrace for a while longer.

Neil seemed a little more tired than the last time you’d seen him. Messy hair was his default, apparently, as well as a five o’clock shadow, but the faint dark circles under his eyes were something new, and you pondered if that was the lack of sleep caused by your late-night conversation, or the strain of his own duties taking a toll on him. What didn’t change, however, was the light shining in the blue irises, and a playful smile dancing on his lips, bound to prompt one of your own.

“What are you doing here?”

“They called us in for some drills, so I was around.” His fingers glided down your forearm, almost making your breath hitch. A shade of concern clouded his expression and he searched your face, then added quietly, “I wanted to check if you’re okay. How are you feeling?”

You blinked a few times, slightly shaking your head to dismiss his worries sooner than you were able to collect your thoughts.

“I’m fine. Or better, at least.” Choking out a small laugh, you met the blue eyes again, boring into you attentively, consistently, not mindful of the blonde strands falling into them. “I’ll be alright,” you said softly. Of course you were gonna be alright. Things happened, over and over again, and if you hadn’t been able to handle it, you wouldn’t have been cut out for the job. And you were. As you held his gaze, you sent him a reassuring smile, pouring all your confidence into it. “Thank you for checking on me, though. I appreciate it.”

Neil gave you a small nod, visibly relieved. “Don’t mention it.” He moved his tongue across his lips, then nibbled on the bottom one, glancing over your shoulder into the corridor as the elevator rumbled, fortunately moving past your floor. “I don’t wanna keep you any longer. Besides,“ - a roguish smile curved his mouth - “I might not have a hall pass.”

But before you could lecture him on security measures, Neil took your hand and put the cup in it, sneaking something resembling a folded piece of paper into your grasp.

“What is this?”

“A little pick-me-up,” he said and shrugged, then tilted his head. “Fruity, on the sour side, right?” You gaped at him, utterly perplexed, and he snickered at the shock painted across your face. “No vodka this time, sadly.” He sighed, then patted your arm. “Have a nice day, darling.”

You managed to choke out - “Yeah, you too,” - tightening hold on the cup while he marched towards the elevator, unwilling to take his chances for much longer.

Smart move, and yet, there was a pang near your heart as you watched him walk away.

You were really that tired, huh?

With a hand on the doorknob, you glanced at him one last time. Just as Neil looked over his shoulder.

He met your eyes and smiled softly.

Goddamnit.

You chewed on your lip, desperate to stop the flush threatening to creep up your face, then took a deep breath and entered the office.

The door clicked behind you and as you went to your desk, Alex watched you like a hawk.

“Thirsty?” they asked casually, but with a mocking gimmer clearly visible in their dark eyes.

There was no way in hell they’d heard anything. Yet, your heart pounded heavily, as if you’d been caught on something inappropriate.

You arched a brow and sent them a shrug.

“Heating season, you know how it is.”

“Uh-huh.”

You fell on your chair and took a sip from the cup.

Tea. With raspberry juice, orange slices, ginger, and cloves. Sweet, but not overbearingly, with a touch of spice, definitely leaning into its sour notes. Hot and comforting. Homely.

You closed your eyes and allowed the warmth to spread through you.

A pick-me-up, indeed.

What about that paper tucked in your palm, though?

You unfolded it and your confused frown only deepened.

An envelope. An empty one, to be precise.

As you checked the other side and read a single word written on it, a loud snort escaped you, and you hid your face in your palms, trying to muffle a hysterical laugh rising in your throat.

Strings.

—-

The end of your shift couldn’t come fast enough. Your fingers were itching, and it took some intense reasoning from your brain not to call him immediately after leaving the building.

For the second time in 24 hours? Come on, that wouldn’t be wise. On so many levels.

On the other hand, it would’ve been rude not to thank him for that tea. And you couldn’t exactly do that during his next request call, could you?

Why not? It was doable.

Without raising suspicion? Alex had already been smirking at you after your little giggling fit.

Asking for trouble, nothing more.

Maybe it was. Definitely it was. And yet–

Back and forth, all the way home. The inner dispute ended with the conclusion that you were tired, and you needed rest, first and foremost, because the emotions running loose like that were not helping anyone.

The Universe solved your headache itself, and just as you crossed your apartment's threshold, your phone buzzed with a message.

//Was it balanced to your liking?//

It was easier to call him back since you were in the middle of taking off your outdoor clothes.

Neil picked up straight away.

“It was perfect, thank you,” you said right on the beat. ” Why, you made it yourself?”

“That’s classified, I’m afraid.”

You scoffed at a sly grin tainting his tone. “Understood. No strings attached though, huh?”

“I knew you’d get it,” he hummed with satisfaction, then hesitated and sighed, finally landing on a more serious note. “I’ve been thinking about our last talk. When I said no pressure, I meant it.” A bated chuckle sneaked between the words, now soft and warm and ringing with care that made your heart squeeze with fondness. “We don’t have to dance. Or do whatever else you’re not comfortable with, for that matter. But I’m here if you need anything. Anytime. Simple as that.”

“It means a lot, really.” You couldn’t find words to express how much it did. It was overwhelming, but at the same time calming; swirling a lot of different emotions inside you that you didn’t know how to process. It had to wait, however, because you had an offer to reciprocate. “Same goes to you, darling. I’m always a phone call away.”

“I’ll remember that. Thank you.”

Suddenly, there was that inkling again, and you needed to ask.

“Hey, are you okay?”

“Me?” That clearly caught him off-guard. “Yeah, why?”

“I don’t know, you seemed a bit tired today.” Probably wasn’t the nicest thing to say, and as you realized that, you winced slightly. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to--”

“No, it’s alright,” he said, the initial puzzlement already wearing off. “I’m okay. Permanently jet-lagged, but okay.” He let out a small laugh. “Thanks for asking. Was it the habit kicking in?”

“Maybe.” Or maybe you just cared, more than you’d like to admit. “Go get some rest.”

“You too, darling. Talk to you soon?”

You smiled hearing the hopeful notes in the question.

“Naturally.”

That was it. That was the word.

Because everything came just like that with him.

And everything felt like that when it came to him.

Even more so.

It felt undeniably right.

(next chapter ->)

#neil tenet #neil tenet x reader #neil tenet fanfiction #neil tenet imagine #neil tenet x you #tenet fanfiction #robert pattinson #posterity

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