#yes please just let me follow you around and watch you arrange flowers

[sidekick-hero]

dying on your lips is how I wanna go (kiss me you animal)

(steddie | teen | 3.3k | @steddie-week | First Kiss | AO3)

Summary: Robin breaks her ankle and Steve's chance at a dance with Eddie at her wedding with it. Good thing there's always a second chance for true love.

Robin and Nancy's wedding was an emotional roller coaster for Steve, and he's not sure if he wants to kiss or curse Robin. At the moment, both sound equally good.

The day had begun with him wondering if he was going to die alone, probably after slipping in his bathtub and being found weeks later, already rotting away. The bittersweet ache of watching his best friend and platonic soulmate marry the woman he thought he'd marry someday had been hard to bear, and he'd been convinced he'd end the night drunk and sobbing on the bathroom floor.

Instead, Robin had given him the most gorgeous man he'd ever seen. He knew the guy, Eddie, wasn't exactly a gift because Robin had hired the wedding band without a thought for Steve. Still, he'd like to think that deep down, she did it for him, and he could kiss her for it.

Eddie had checked all of Steve's boxes and had single-handedly created a few new ones as well. The dark, curly hair and big, soulful eyes had been what had first caught Steve's attention, followed by the mesmerizing way he played his guitar, talented, nimble fingers dancing across the strings that made Steve think about how he'd like them to play his body in the same way. And his voice. Steve could still feel heat spreading through his body at the thought of that voice.

But what had made Eddie different, truly different, wasn't the way he looked or his sinful voice. It was the way he cared. He had been so nice to Steve, so sweet and interested in him, his attraction obvious without being sleazy. No, he had made Steve feel seen, like he really wanted Steve and not just another pretty body. And yes, maybe Steve was as easy as some of his exes and one-night stands had told him, but in his book, that was enough to make the first butterflies tentatively flap their wings.

When Eddie's bandmate had called Eddie back to the stage to do his job, he had been disappointed, but then Eddie had come back and asked Steve to save a dance for him, promising him a later for which Steve was giddy to take him up on.

This is where his desire to curse Robin comes into play.

Because Robin was one of the smartest and bravest and most wonderful people he'd ever had the pleasure of knowing, and he would die for her. But by God, whoever thought it was a good idea to let her drink and then dance a fast, upbeat song with Nancy should be slapped in the face, hard. Steve would even volunteer. Robin-actual-babygiraffe-Buckley was an uncoordinated mess when she was sober. Add several glasses of champagne on an empty stomach to the mix, and it was a wonder there hadn't been more casualties.

She and Nancy had been whirling around the dance floor in a flurry of flailing limbs, both dizzy and drunk, when Robin had tripped over her own feet, slammed into a table, and broken that table along with her ankle. Eddie had been there, right behind Steve, helping him dig Robin out from among the splintered wood, trinkets, and flower arrangements.

Eddie had examined Robin for injuries in a way that looked calm, collected, and competent, and Steve had swooned, forgetting for a second where they were and why.

"Is there anything you can't do?"

It just slipped out, adrenaline loosening his tongue, and Robin slapped his arm, offended.

"Could you please not flirt while I'm dying, Dingus?"

"You're not dying, birdie," Eddie chuckled, clearly amused by their banter and the way Steve seemed to have lost his brain-to-mouth filter. "But I'm afraid you're going to have to go to the emergency room, that ankle looks broken. Better get it looked at before it gets worse."

Steve looked at him with wide eyes. "How do you know how to do that?"

Eddie just shrugged his shoulders like it's no big deal, and that made Steve fall a little harder.

"Oh, y'know, I got beat up a couple of times in school, nothing bad, but you pick up a thing or two about injuries. Then we started playing in bars and clubs, but most of them wouldn't let us just play, they wanted money to get a spot, so I started helping out as a bouncer or bartender, and one part no one tells you about is taking care of drunks who get hurt," he looked down at Robin and smiled teasingly at her, "like birdie here. That was pretty impressive, I haven't seen that much broken in one go in a long time.”

Robin blushed, Nancy giggled, and Steve? Steve wondered how long he'd have to wait before he could ask Eddie to move in with him. Maybe after he took Robin to the emergency room, because he was pretty sure she'd kill him, soulmate or no soulmate, if he did it right now.

Steve scooped Robin up in his arms, earning a yelp from Robin and something that sounded almost like a Jesus Christ from Eddie.

He put her in his back seat, glad that his last champagne had been two hours ago. Nancy took the passenger seat and off they went. As he drove away, he saw Eddie getting smaller and smaller in the rearview mirror. There went his dance and his bright future as a wedding band player's boyfriend.

They had kept Robin for a few hours, checking her out thoroughly at Nancy's vaguely threatening request. Steve called the wedding venue and told everyone that they wouldn't make it back, but that everything was paid for and they should enjoy it. Then he sat back down next to Nancy and waited.

Of course, Robin was fine. Her ankle was broken, but they told her it would heal nicely if she kept her weight off it for six weeks and wore an ugly looking boot. She was even given her own walker.

At 5am Steve fell into his own bad, face first and alone.

The next few days are spent in a moping haze. Steve knows he's being overly dramatic when he whines and pouts every time he goes over to Robin and Nancy's house to help Robin out when Nancy has to work, but he thinks he deserves it. Because something about Eddie had felt real in a way that nothing else had before, and as impossible and stupid as it sounds, he misses Eddie.

And that's why, he thinks, Nancy finally pulls him aside one night about a week after the wedding and asks him bluntly, "The wedding band singer, that's why you're so insufferable, isn't it?"

"Hey, if you don't want me here, I can--" he starts, sounding petulant to his own ears.

"Steve," Nancy cuts him off, that steely undertone in her voice that says she means business, "that's not it, and you know it. We want you here, always. But if I hear you sigh one more time, I will have to shoot you." She raises her eyebrow, waiting for him to interrupt or protest.

He doesn't.

"So I'll ask again. The wedding band singer?"

They stare at each other in silence, and it takes Steve a full 20 seconds or so before he gives in.

"Yeah, the wedding band singer," he sighs. "His name is Eddie."

"Oh, I know. We hired him. Which means I know his name, his full name, and his number and address." Looking into Steve's wide, surprised eyes, she adds affectionately, "Dingus.”

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Eddie is just about to bite into his sandwich, flipping off Gareth's nagging voice in his head telling him that nine thirty is too late for dinner, when his phone vibrates.

Unknown number sent 09:32pm: I got your number from Nancy, I'm not a stalker

Unknown number sent 09:32pm: Or does this count as stalking

Unknown number sent 09:33pm: Shit

Unknown number sent 09:33pm: Oh God, please ignore this

Unknown number sent 09:37pm: This is Steve, by the way. From the wedding you played with your band last Saturday. I don't know if you remember, but we talked before Robin broke her ankle and I couldn't get your number so Nancy gave it to me, and I'm sorry if this is weird, I'll delete it if you want me to

Eddie bounced excitedly on his couch, his face aching from smiling down at his phone and his feet kicking. It's a good thing Gareth and Chrissy aren't home right now because they would make fun of him mercilessly. There was no one around to judge him for acting like a teenage girl with her first crush.

Once that was out of his system, he picked up his phone again and tapped out a reply, trying not to sound too eager, but showing Steve how happy he was to hear from him.

Eddie Munson sent 09:41pm: Course I remember you, Steve. You're hard to forget, believe me.

Eddie Munson sent 09:42pm: This isn't weird, I'm glad you did. How is Robin?

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 09:42pm: Okay, good, I'm glad too

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 09:43pm: Robin is fine, doctor said she'll be good as new in about 6 weeks

Eddie is glad to hear that, too. He had joked about it, but the accident had looked painful. Even though he's still bummed that they didn't get to have that dance, it's good that Steve took care of his friend and that she's going to be okay. Maybe they can have that dance after all. Just as he's about to type that, he sees three dots appear on the screen, indicating that Steve is still typing. They disappeared without a new message and reappeared after a few seconds, and after several times of disappearing and reappearing, another message from Steve popped up.

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 09:56pm: Listen, I know we only talked once, but I think you and your band are really great. And there's this fundraiser at my school, we're raising money for a new gym. Maybe you and the guys would be willing to help me out and do a benefit concert to raise more money?.

Eddie deflated. Steve hadn't written to ask him out, but to ask for help with his benefit concert. It was a good thing he hadn't suggested they make up for the lost chance at a dance.

Normally, Eddie wouldn't jump at the idea of playing a concert at a local high school - his old high school, in fact, as Steve and he had discovered during their conversation at the wedding - especially for free. But the thought of seeing Steve again, even if it wasn't like that, made him type an answer before he could talk himself out of it.

Eddie Munson sent 10:02pm: Thanks man, I'll tell the guys you said that. I'll have to check with them, but I'm sure we can swing it. Just send me the date.

Steve (cute wedding guy) sent 10:04pm: Wow, that's great! Thanks, Eddie, really. It's next Friday, I thought we'd start the concert at 7pm, so if you could be there around 6:30 that would be great. Just ask for Steve Harrington.

Eddie sighed heavily. He can see Steve's excited face as if he were standing right in front of him and he could tell himself that it was the late dinner all he wanted, but the butterflies in his stomach were hard to misinterpret.

Fuck.

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

Steve wants to kick himself for making a complete fool of himself as he lies in bed reading over his earlier conversation with Eddie. I'm not a stalker. Jesus Christ, Harrington, that's exactly what a stalker would say.

He's grateful that Eddie has been so nice about all of this. Not that he should be surprised, since Eddie had been nothing but nice and sweet during the wedding. Still, after getting off to a painfully awkward start, Steve couldn't bring himself to ask Eddie to dance, as he had planned. It would have just felt way too weird.

Good thing he remembered the fundraiser next Friday. Sure, he'll have to convince Joyce to allow a concert in the evening, something they hadn't planned, but he's pretty sure she'll be on board. Maybe he'll ask Eddie to go out to dinner or dancing afterwards.

Or both. He'd really like both.

‘In a few days I'll see him again, and this time I won't let him get away,' he thinks as he plugs in his cell phone and puts it on the nightstand.

Steve turns over and falls asleep with a smile on his face.

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

The fundraiser is a huge success, largely due to Nancy's impeccable planning skills and the combined efforts of all their friends, most of whom don't even work at the school.

Jonathan, another of Nancy's ex-boyfriends whom they all get along with, is manning the photo booth and his boyfriend, Argyle, is handing out homemade pizza. Their friend Will is drawing portraits for the kids and their parents, while Dustin is doing harmless but exciting science experiments and Lucas is managing the basketball court.

Robin sits at the table with the large donation box, collecting checks and bills and thanking everyone profusely for their contributions. Her walker and crutches are out in the open, and if people feel sorry for her and give a little extra, that's on them. The children will be happy about their new gym and will not care how it was paid for.

Steve, who herds the volunteers and students alike, can't help but look at his watch every few minutes. Robin stopped teasing him about it an hour ago and now just rolls her eyes at him half annoyed, half fondly. It's still not even 6 p.m., the same as it was ten minutes ago, the last time he checked.

He sighs, annoyed at both himself and the slow-moving clock hands, when a voice behind him says, "I heard someone requested a Live Aid worthy benefit concert?"

Steve whips his head around to find Eddie standing right behind him, dressed in ripped jeans and a printed shirt under a leather jacket and denim vest combo that made want pool in his stomach. Eddie in a tuxedo had been mouthwatering, but this? This was downright indecent, his jeans looking painted on and the jacket accentuating how tiny his waist looked compared to his shoulders. Screw dinner and dancing, he wants to take Eddie home. He might even ask him to leave the jacket on.

"Steve? Are you okay, man?"

Eddie's voice jolts him out of the dirty spiral his thoughts had been on and he blinks at him owlishly.

"Eddie, hey. Hi. You're early," Steve stutters, looking for the script, any script, that doesn't make him look like an idiot. "Not that that's a bad thing, not at all. I'm glad you're here."

Steve groans and rubs his hand over his face. Great. So fucking smooth. When he looks up, he catches Robin's eyes across the room and her eyebrow rises before she mouths 'You suck' at him.

"You know what they say, Stevie. A wizard is never late, nor early. He arrives precisely when he means to."

"That's Lord of the Rings!" Steve exclaims, snapping his fingers at Eddie in excitement. "Dustin made me watch it last Christmas, it's really good."

The smile he gets in return turns the tentative flapping of butterfly wings in his stomach into a storm.

"Glad you think so. They're my favorite movies of all time, I watch them at least once a year."

Before Steve can reply, 'Maybe next time we can watch them together,' another man appears next to Eddie, and Steve vaguely remembers seeing him with the rest of the band at the wedding.

He slaps Eddie's shoulder and tells Steve, "Don't believe a word he says. He watches it once a month." He extends a hand to Steve. "I'm Gareth, Eddie's band and roommate. Nice to meet you, I've heard a lot about you, Steve."

Steve shakes Gareth's hand, catching the glare Eddie gives his friend out of the corner of his eye. He wonders what that's about.

"Thank you, Gare-Bear, for such a valuable contribution to my conversation. Don't you have something to do? Like, somewhere else, maybe?"

Gareth throws his head back and cackles at Eddie's put-upon expression, raising his hands in a placating yeah, yeah, yeah gesture.

"Me and the boys are going to get something to eat, call us when we can set up, yeah?"

Eddie waves his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I'll call you," before turning back to Steve and saying, "Ignore him. I do it all the time. So, Steve, my beneficiary, where do you want me?"

Everywhere but sucking you off in front of all these families will probably get me fired.

"Um -"

"For the concert? I wanted to check out the stage before I set up with the guys."

"Oh. Yeah, right. Follow me, I'll show you."

On the way to the stage Steve tries to get a grip on himself. What the fuck. He can't remember the last time he felt like this, like his skin was too tight and his stomach was churning with nerves.

As they pass the bleachers, Eddie speaks up from behind.

"Do you know how many times I walked by them and saw some jock or other making out with a cheerleader and made fun of them when all I really wanted was to be in their place?"

This makes Steve pause mid-stride and Eddie walks right into him, causing them both to stumble forward, holding on to each other to keep from falling over.

"Whoa, careful there, big boy, it feels like walking into a brick wall," Eddie chuckles, and it sounds nervous, his hands tightening on Steve's biceps. They're suddenly very close, noses almost touching, and Steve thinks he could drown in those bright brown eyes. He swallows convulsively, his head swimming with how much he wants to close the last few inches between them, and then he thinks, fuck it.

"I was a jock," he tells Eddie, eyes locking with his, wanting him to understand what he's putting out there.

Eddie's eyes widen, searching his for a long moment before he whispers, "Are you - Do you -" his voice devoid of all the assurance and bravado of earlier.

Steve may be slow on the uptake sometimes, but he knows when someone wants him.

"You want to cross out making out behind the bleachers with a jock from your bucket list?"

"Who says I didn't want to make out with the cheerleader?"

Steve licks his lips and Eddie's eyes immediately drop to follow the movement, so Steve just smirks and says, "Eddie? Shut up," and pushes him behind the bleachers, pinning him against the nearest beam and catching his lips in a bruising kiss.

Eddie's hands find their way into Steve's hair, gripping it in tight fists, and it stings in a way that makes his hips jerk forward, a gasp coming from his mouth that sounds more like a moan. Instead of using the opportunity to slip his tongue into Steve's willing mouth, Eddie uses his hands in Steve's hair to control the kiss, to make it slower, softer. Gentle. He moves his lips leisurely against Steve's, exploring their texture and shape before letting his tongue slip out to trace the pronounced dip of his Cupid's bow.

Steve melts into Eddie, surrendering himself as he sinks against his warm, inviting body. They kiss and kiss and kiss, the slide between their mouths getting wetter and hungrier.

"Fuck, I never thought I'd get to do this. You're a dream come true, Steve Harrington."

Steve dives back in, kissing him with everything he has, thinking, I never want to wake up.

#steddieweek2023 #steddie #steddie fanfic #fluff #first kiss #teacher!steve #musician!eddie #modern au #stranger things #my writing

[averageallogene]

Some Kazuha fluff from me (finally!)

Kazuha finds himself intrigued with the the the Alcor's pharmacist. He feels he knows you from somewhere but he just can't remember where. That is, until he spots your very familiar wrist flick and his memory is sparked.

He recalls that the two of you were betrothed since you were children until his father cancelled the engagement shortly after he turned twelve. He remembers paying a visit to your family after dissolving the Kaedahara clan and your mother informing him that you had left to study in Sumeru.

Kazuha confronts you one night during one of the crew's late night celebrations; you were busy at your workspace preparing hangover potions for everyone.

The two of you have that long overdue talk over a pot of Qingxin flower tea, only to find out your feelings for each other never changed over the years.

The next morning, Beidou sees your enjoined hands and she burst out laughing all the way to Mora-Grubber. Apparently, the entire crew has a betting pool on you two.

KAZUHA ♡⊹˚ Hold my hand [SFW]

fem. reader (3rd person) ; fluff, my beloved. 

3k words.

notes. I am a simple woman. I love tooth rotting fluff, as well as mutual pinning. They are my most innocent guilty pleasures and as such I am more than happy to write this one~ Enjoy ✧˖°.

"Another one? Seriously?"

The judgment was more than evident, the sailor offering nothing more than an apologetic smile as he clasped his hands together. The pharmacist, on the other hand, only eyed him with a glance that could only be described as both disbelief and acceptance. Even when the man before her was much taller and physically well built, the aura of respect their pharmacist radiated was enough to bring any well seasoned seaman to his knees.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," He had laughed nervously, still gazing ahead at the woman before him. "Captain Beidou is returning and, well, we wanted to-"

"Yes yes, to celebrate another victory." [F/N] sighed, waving her hand in dismissal as she looked over the notes she had taken. "Look, I know why you came if that's the case. All I will need is another batch of violetgrass if you want me to prepare enough remedy for the crew. Can someone please go pick it up at the Bubu Pharmacy for me? I wouldn't mind going myself, but I need to keep watch over the other brewing ingredients in the meantime."

"Of course, Miss [F/N]!" The way his eyes sparkled was almost endearing, were it not for the absolute menace a bunch of drunk rowdy men could be. 

[F/N], was quick to wave him off before she was left alone in her station once more. She let out a small sigh, fingers flicking through the papers in which she stored all her notes regarding their medicinal inventory. She huffed under her breath, mumbling aloud as she thought over her predicament - violetgrass was common enough to treat any kind of hangover, however if she wished for the crew to be up and functional the following morning, she would perhaps need a few more particular ingredients for the potion. 

And as such, with a heavy sigh, she excited her chamber and made way to the main deck. There were still men working their regular day, a few smiling her way before bidding her a good morning. Despite the big pain they could be when drunk, [F/N] had to admit, they were otherwise a good bunch. 

"G'morning, Miss [F/N]." Juza the chief mate greeted her, whipping his brow as he nodded her head.

"Good morning, Juza. Mind answering me one question?" She smiled his way.

"Sure, what can I help you with?"

And as such, she inquired if he knew what kind of liquor would be served on the approaching festivities. Since most of the alcoholic beverages would be arranged by the crew themselves, she half expected them to go absolutely crazy with it. Anything, to them, was worth the festivities, and the presence of Captain Beidou practically doubled it. This, in turn, required her utmost attention. As such, as he went through the list, they stood still on the deck whilst men circled around them, working to ensure the stability of the vessel.

The breeze that flew through the Alcor was soft, soothing even. From the seat in which he stood, Kazuha had a wonderful view of the calm sea, his eyes shimmering with the light of the sun as he felt the winds caress through his hair. The routined sounds of the crew going about their business was mostly white noise to his ears, offering him a small sense of comfort before he heard a conversation across the main deck.

"How did you even get your hands on that?!" 

The known figure of Juza was seen rubbing the back of his neck, laughing softly before offering an explanation to the young woman he spoke with. By her body language she seemed agitated, hands on her hips as she listened to him with exasperation. Kazuha found himself lingering his gaze for far longer than what was usual of him, the woman pulling at his soul in a way he couldn't exactly describe. He could feel his gaze narrowing, the cogs on his head beginning to turn as he found himself in murky waters. There was something in her tone of voice that seemed to ring a bell, yet… The samurai couldn't exactly explain what it was, or where did such emotions come from - he was both confused and excited from within, his chest bubbling long before his mind had connected the dots at last. 

It came to him suddenly, his eyes widening as he saw it. Just as the young woman shook her head, her right hand lifted, a simple gesture opening the lock in his mind to bring him back to fond memories. In a swift gesture she flicked it, a scoff accompanying it as her response hadn't even registered in his mind. Instead, Kazuha found his heart beating quicker and stronger inside his ribcage. His mind leaped back in time, reminiscing back to when he played with a young girl inside his residence, the two of them sharing laughter as they held one another's hands. The gesture was first seen there, a soon-to-be common sight to behold as the young girl dressed in floral kimonos would repeat it whenever strong emotions took hold of her.

Her hair, her eyes, her face… The one he'd once been betrothed to stood near him, her matured beauty impressing him in a way he would've never guessed it would. In fact, Kazuha felt as though he'd been swept off his feet. Was it the sense of nostalgia, the sheer enchantment he felt being cast on him, or was it the mere surprise to find her in such a place? Then again… It could very well be all the three at once. All the nature that surrounded him seemed to come to a stand still, his very being focusing alone on the figure of the young woman as she retreated from the surface of the Alcor. He watched just as her sight left his gaze, eyelids lowering slightly as he felt himself being washed away by his memories.

"Kazu, how do you do that?" He remembers her pouting, holding a similar leaf to the one he hand on his fingers.

"It's simple, [F/N]. I can teach you if you'd like?" 

He had once taught her how to blow on a leaf, the soft melody it made causing her curiosity to bloom. He still remembers vividly how she had gasped upon finally getting it right, her eyes shimmering in delight as she clapped in victory. 

"Thanks, Kazu! I would've never gotten it right were it not for your help."

"You would've, I know so." He'd smiled, nodding his head. "I took much longer to learn it from my dad."

"I can't wait to show my mom!" She had smiled so brightly as she twirled the leaf on her fingers. 

Her mother… Yes, the same mother that had informed him time later she'd left Inazuma to pursue studies in Sumeru. Kazuha remembers how they had spoken less and less as time went on after the annulment of their engagement, and before he'd time to realize it, she slipped past his fingers. At the time, Kazuha thought he only valued her as a friend, the small bubbling emotions within his chest being ignored as the innocence of his childhood told him they were only friends. He couldn't deny how he missed her company, nor how he would oftentimes still remember her and wonder aloud how she would be. The wanderer had, after all, never gotten back to Inazuma safe for the one time he'd gone by to help the traveler. He had no time to visit again, to ask if his dear friend [F/N] had returned. For all he knew, she would've still been in Sumeru… Yet there she was, so close, yet so far.

For once in his time as a wandering Samurai, Kazuha wasn't outright certain of how to proceed. Should he let her be, and allow her to move on? Perhaps now that she had gotten older she grew a distaste for their past relationship as betrothed to one another. Yet, deep in his being… He hoped he could indulge. He deeply wished to see her closer, to speak to her again, to witness if she would sport the same look of surprise he had upon realizing she'd been so close to him. 

He pondered, and thought some more. He sought answers in the winds, the breeze only further delving him into a state of hesitancy. Before he knew it night had come by, with it the feast commencing. The crew was in great spirits, and so was Captain Beidou. The aura in the Alcor was of grand festivities, the lights and the music surely being heard on land as Kazuha sought refuge in the higher points of the ship. 

There was no point in delaying it further. He would certainly regret it to not seek answers, and he wasn't any coward either. Kazuha jumped before landing on his feet, disappearing quickly into the lower decks before any sailor could whisk him off to drink. He was subtle in his escape, though not enough for the trained eye to not see him going a certain direction. There surely was interest in where he was going, yet by that point, Kazuha didn't care, nor did he notice… He was too preoccupied with the thoughts rushing through his head, the mere idea of seeing [F/N] and speaking to her again filling his entire mind. 

A knock came to her door, the young woman lifting her head as she took a pause to listen. It was still early for anyone to take the brewing mixture, the ingredients still being processed…. But then again, it was probably not that. Whoever had reached her door had been quiet, no sounds of stumbling or hiccuping being heard. It gave [F/N] a brief sense of relief, deciding to speak up as she turned around to tend to the concoction that required her attention.

"Yes? Come in."

It was a simple enough phrase, followed by the few clinks of what Kazuha presumed was her using her utensils. Still, it felt like a warm melody to his ears, his own voice being stuck in his throat as he couldn't help but smile. The little girl in the flowery kimono, who would dance with him and hold his hands, all those pleasant memories flashed through his head once more just as he turned the knob, opening the door before quietly stepping in. She was turned around, her back to him as she made sure to thoroughly mix the ingredients for the remedy. It was like she waited for him to speak, all the while Kazuha waited patiently for him to gain her attention. 

"Yes?" She repeated as she heard the door close soon after, an eyebrow raising at the silence that lingered in the air. [F/N] tucked some hair behind her ear before turning around, finally coming face to face with whomever visited her. "Is there anything I can-"

She found herself suddenly shutting up, her eyelids widening slightly. Before her stood a young man dressed in warm tones, the beautiful maple leaf stamped on his intricate clothing that reminded her of home. The smile he wore was as warm as the sunlight, comforting as a fire that warded off the cold of the world. His eyes, red as the same crimson leaf, reflected back an amount of emotion she couldn't nearly keep up with, patiently waiting for her to speak. Most of all however… That single streak of red hair, it brought her back, back to a time [F/N] found herself reflecting back on often, wondering how her once betrothed was doing. 

"Hello, [F/N]. It’s so good to see you." Kazuha finally spoke up, the same smile he would give her all those years ago still present on his handsome features. 

"K… Kazuha? It's really you…." She whispered, barely audible, her work suddenly no longer important. Her eyes were fixated on his own, the pair sharing a vulnerable moment as silence reigned for the time being. 

"Yes… I'm sorry, I don't know if I'm welcome but I-"

"Are you kidding me? It's so good to see you!" She had smiled, the faintest pink dust lingering on her cheeks as she rounded up her table.

He couldn't lie, it was wonderful to hear such. He watched as [F/N] came closer to him, arms opening before enveloping him in a tight embrace. Kazuha couldn't help but let out the faintest chuckle, his strong grip caging her in his arms as they swayed slightly to one side, then the other. Just like they would do when younger…. The kind of hug to bring back a one of a kind comfort, as well as unearth the same feelings that had germinated during his pre-adolescence. 

"How have you been?" [F/N] broke the silence, her voice slightly muffled as she still hid her face against his figure. Kazuha couldn't help but further smile, hesitantly leaning back to gaze at her frame. 

"I've been alright, thank you." He humbly spoke, his fingers finding some strands to tuck behind her ear. "I'd be more inclined to hear you speak how you've been though, if you wouldn't mind?..."

It was as though their friendship had picked up where they had left off - with a single glance to his eyes, [F/N] knew exactly what he meant. Understanding there were a few things he wouldn't enjoy reminiscing on during such a moment, she nodded her head, deciding to oblige to his request. They spoke whilst still in each other's arms, her hands resting against his back all the while. 

"Of course… Would you join me for a cup of qingxin tea?" She proposed.

And who was he to refuse such an invitation? 

Kazuha's heart was soaring above. It simply felt so… Right. He found himself wishing to hear her laugh constantly, to hear her explain excitedly how her life had been. He simply couldn't get enough of her voice, her mannerism, of her. Who was he kidding? His little kiddie crush had bloomed into something more, or perhaps it had always been there and his innocence didn't allow him to fully grasp it. Often she would flick her wrist as she spoke, his gaze following it always as he smiled. Her hands looked so delicate and warm… He found himself yearning to hold her hand against his, as he once would.

"Kazu? You there?" [F/N] smiled at him, eyebrow raising as she held the teapot in her hand before serving him another cup.

"Ah… I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" He offered her an apologetic, albeit still lovely smile.

"Just what is going through that mind of yours?" It was her turn to giggle, passing him his cup. The glint in his eye didn't pass unnoticed, and in a moment of bravery, he didn't hesitate to respond. 

"I was reminiscing on how we would hold hands, once." Kazuha whispered, watching with delight how the blush rose to her face. 

In her place, [F/N] stood still, her eyes meeting his own before both coming to a stand still. Her lips almost rose by their own will, a shy yet beautiful smile gracing her face as she looked away for a brief instance. She too, remembered how he would always indulge her in her requests of taking her hand, the two walking through the tall maple trees whilst the wind blew ever so gently. 

"Ah…" She responded, prompting him to tilt his head in what she didn't know was endearment. "I would always ask you to, wouldn't I?... Sorry, that must've been a little uncomfortable." She played it off with a small laugh, whilst he instead frowned softly.

"No, quite the contrary. I loved it." Kazuha now had no problems speaking his mind, his heart being fueled by the presence of the girl before him. He watched with adoration as her expression shifted back to bashfulness, eyeing him with vulnerability as if inquiring him silently if he meant it. 

And instead of responding verbally, the samurai instead lifted his hand, holding it out of her to take with a smile. He waited for her to slowly take it, him slowly intertwining his fingers with her own before firmly holding her hand. The smile he offered her was now transparent of his feelings for her, Kazuha speaking of everything needed in pure silence. The noise of the party outside became more and more muffled as they cherished their moment, [F/N] reciprocating the grasp before offering him a more sincere smile. 

"I… Really missed you, Kazuha." She finally admitted, his squeeze to her hand tightening slightly. 

"I did, too." He responded firmly, lifting out of his chair before having her follow him. He carefully brought her hand to his chest, pressing against him as his own hands secured hers closer. He never ceased to smile, their foreheads slowly lingering before pressing against one another. At that moment, they needn't say much else, basking in the fondness of one another between a shared glance. "Do you think we could… Perhaps, pick up where we left off?" 

She giggled softly, his heart busting in glee. "Hold my hand a little longer, and I may just cave in."

"Oh, I'll hold it for as long as you like, dove."

And true to his promise, the following day, they could be found by the main deck, on a corner as they felt the wind gently brush through them. Their fingers were once more intertwined, [F/N] resting against his side as they laughed softly, reminiscing on funny stories that brought them back to simpler times. Often, [F/N] would find herself drawing patterns in his hand with her thumb, caressing his skin ever so gently as Kazuha relished in the feeling, his soul now warm and complete. For as long as needed be, he would hold her hand, relishing in the simple yet meaningful gesture. 

"And I believe that means I've won the bet." A roar was heard on the other side of the ship, though the two were perhaps blessed to not catch wind of it. "Juza, you owe me!"

"Argh…" The chief mate grunted, though the scowl on his face was certainly not a serious one. He couldn't help but shake his head and smirk. "Seems like you hit the mark, Captain."

"Hah, what were you expecting?" Beidou laughed triumphantly, eyeing the couple with pride beaming in her chest. "Now, go and get the hangover medicine for the men. It's about time they begin working!" She finished, before going off to collect her well deserved prize - a heft bag of mora, of course.

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin kazuha x reader #genshin impact kazuha x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #yoko drabbles

[mrs-hilmarson]

The Teacher’s Assistant Part 4

Pairing: Larissa Weems x Fem! Normie Reader

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: NSFW

This is the first time writing NSFW content for me, so please be gentle :). I enjoyed writing this chapter and I have left it open to write another chapter if you guys would like this to be a full story like Run to Me was. Let me know if you would like to continue. There would be another NSFW chapter. 

Larissa's room was regal and lavish, just like her. Of course, there was another marble fireplace, with pink and white flower arrangements surrounding it. A four-poster bed with grey bedding and a beautiful grey velvet bench sitting in front of it. You looked around the room, in awe of its beauty, but also in awe that you were there.

You turned back to Larissa and your jaw nearly hit the floor. While you were engrossed with the room, she had slid off her dress, it now laying around her ankles. She stepped out of it, her heels still on. Of course, her underclothes were just as perfect as everything else, lace and satin bra and panties, only instead of pastel colors, they were deep red, like her lips. You swallowed, drool pooling in your mouth. She walked towards you slowly, the grin never leaving her face. She kicked off her shoes as she walked, leaving almost all of her clothes behind her.

She reached you and traced your jaw with her fingertips, raising your chin to look at her. She took your lips and kissed them slowly and deeply, a train of spit stretched between you as she pulled away again. You breathed as if you had just run a marathon, but you followed her as she leaned into your ear, breathing into it before speaking.

"Your turn," she said, her voice husky and warm. You nodded and stepped back, slowly pulling off your pajama pants. You weren't wearing anything spectacular underwear-wise, but you hadn't worn an old pair which you were thankful for. You saw Larissa bit her lip as her eyes swept over you. You grabbed the hem of your shirt and began to pull it over your head when Larissa caught your wrist, stopping you.

"Are you wearing a bra?"

You blushed, realizing you hadn't had one on this whole time as you were about to go to bed.

"No," you said quietly, looking away. Larissa's grin grew and she let go of your wrist before grabbing your shirt herself.

"I want to unwrap you myself," she growled, her eyes suddenly turning dark. You smiled and nodded and watched as she painstakingly pulled your shirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor.

You blushed, embarrassed to be exposed before such a beautiful woman in this way, but you saw pure joy on Weem's face.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, her hands running gently down your sides and down to your underwear, her fingers dipping into the side of them to pull on them slightly. You gasped at her touch, her smirk growing once again.

"You purr for me so well now, I can't wait to hear the noises you make when you're underneath me."

This caused something in you to awaken and you grabbed her chin, crashing your mouth into hers. Immediately the kisses were intense and her tongue fought for dominance in your mouth. The red lipstick that once dawned her lips now was smeared over both of your faces. She bit your bottom lip, pulling gently before releasing it to line your teeth with her tongue.

Suddenly you felt yourself leave the floor and be swept into her grasp, carried, and thrown onto the bed. You crawled backward as she crawled forward, landing in between your legs and pressing you into her mattress. Making out didn't slow down as your hands explored her body, your fingers running along her ribs to the bra that stood in your way. You were nimble and removed it quickly, throwing it to the floor. You pulled back to take in the view and laid back completely.

"Wow," was all that came out of your mouth. Larissa laughed a warm hearty laugh, sitting back on your hips.

"Like what you see darling?"

"Oh yes," you said, sitting up to catch her in another kiss. But before you could she placed a hand on your shoulder and pushed you back down, her nearly naked form looming over you.

She ran her hands over your body, allowing her thumbs to brush over your nipples. You gasped, your back arching into her touch. You wanted her to be closer. She bit her lip and leaned down, taking one in her mouth. You moaned, entangling your hands in her perfect hair, pulling it from its shape. She sat up once more, removing pins from her hair and allowing it to cascade down her bare shoulders. You ran your hands up her stomach and to her breasts, eliciting a gasp from her as she worked on her hair. You rolled her nipples between your fingers and she bit her lip, her hands falling from her hair to grab your hands and embrace them as they caressed her beautiful body.

You tried to drop your hands but she held them there, hungry for more touch. You smirked and threw all your weight to the left, sloppily throwing her underneath you. It wasn't graceful, but she was still impressed, the roles reversed. Now she laid a flustered mess underneath you.

"How did you do that?" she asked, running her hands over your hips as you began to slowly grind them into hers.

You leaned down and pulled the same move she did, blowing a warm breath into her ear before answering.

"Magic," you giggled. You pulled back and saw an endearing look on her face. You brought your hand up to her cheek, carefully brushing hair from her face and behind her ear. You leaned down and took her lips into yours, kissing her gently this time and moving to the right to begin to trail your kisses down her jaw and neck. She exposed her neck to you more, moaning each time your lips touched the sensitive skin. You lightly nipped the skin there, running your tongue over the spot to soothe the sting after each one.

You trailed kisses along her collarbone and down her body, purposely ignoring her nipples to her annoyance. You continued down, kissing along her beautiful belly and to her hips, kissing along the hem of her panties. You looked at them and saw the clear stain in between her legs, her having soaked her own underwear.

You licked your lips and looked up at her, wanting permission to take them off. She nodded and you quickly went to work, sliding them down her long legs and revealing her completely to you. She spread her legs and welcomed your touch, her face longing for it. You smiled and complied, leaning down to kiss her soft and silky thighs. She spread her legs even wider, giving you plenty of room to reach your destination.

You were tired of waiting and made your way up, immediately running your tongue up her slit, tapping her clit with your tongue. She gasped, her back arching and her hands finding their way into your hair. You circled it with your tongue and sucked it into your mouth gently before releasing it to lick the full length of her sex. She moaned out and you picked up speed slowly trying to enjoy each noise and each taste that fell onto your tongue.

Her thighs began to tighten and you knew she was reaching her climax fast, poor little Weems a bundle of nerves who had turned into a writhing mess.

"Faster," she said, breathy and begging.

You complied, speeding up, focusing even more on her sensitive bundle that was reaching its max. Her wines turned to full-blown moans. She placed her thighs on your shoulders and her hips began to rise, guiding you to exactly where she wanted. Her feet caressed your bare back and pressed you deeper into her. Suddenly the moans picked up in intensity and seemed to follow each breath she took. Her whole body tensed as she came, singing sweet sounds that filled the room.

It took her a moment to come down from her high but when she did, she wasted no time in wrapping her legs around your hips and flipping you around so you were underneath her. Her eyes were dark and her cheeks were flushed. She breathed heavily, still worn out from her climax. She smirked.

"You were such a good girl to me, now it is your turn, my love," she said. She began to kiss you with such passion you thought you may cum without even any touch. You moaned into her mouth and you swore you heard her growl. You felt one of her hands begin crawling down your torso, her fingers walking its length. She reached her goal and slipped her fingers underneath the band of your underwear.

"I think I should warm you up some more before I devour you."

The moan that escaped your mouth at this statement was embarrassingly loud, but you didn't care. You were desperate for her touch. She began massaging your clit and you spread your legs wider, giving her plenty of room. She smiled into your kiss and picked up speed, getting you to her liking rather quickly.

"So eager, so desperate. Are you ready for me now darling?"

You nodded quickly, wanting more. She left your lips and you wined, missing their hold. She never broke eye contact with you as she moved down. She reached your clothed sex and she held up a finger, shape-shifting a dangerously sharp claw. She took it and sliced your underwear right off, nicking you in the process. You hissed from the pain and her face seemed worried and she kissed the red welp forming on your hip bone.

"Are you alright?" she asked, the concern winning over the hunger. You smiled and nodded, wanting her to continue her dive. She smiled and kissed your injury one last time before diving her tongue into your cunt. You nearly screamed out, already so sensitive.

She worked slowly, building you back up to climax once again, sucking your clit the way she sucked on your bottom lip. You began to shake and you weren't sure you were going to be able to handle it. You moaned out as your whole body clenched, coming. You felt as Larissa lapped up the mess you had made. You felt her smiling, proud of herself.

Once she was done, she came back up and kissed you, both of you tasting yourselves on each others lips. The kisses were soft and beautiful, the hunger being satisfied between you two. Larissa then lifted you up and dragged you to the head of her bed, pulling back the covers and climbing in beside you. She wrapped her entire body around you and you kissed one another for a long time, just enjoying the other's company.

"Sorry about the nick my love," she purred eventually. Her eyes were sleepy and soft and her gaze laid softly into yours.

"It's ok. Those weren’t good underwear anyways," you said. You immediately groaned once again revealing too much information. Larissa laughed though and kissed your cheek over and over again.

You switched eventually, kissing her face and neck gently until she fell asleep. You took in her sleeping form, hoping to remember it vividly forever. You remained wrapped in her arms, your lips against her neck until you yourself drifted off to sleep.

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

A knock at the door shocked you both awake.

"Principal Weems? Principal Weems! We have an emergency."

It was freaking Thornhill. Again! Larissa looked at you, terrified. You immediately jumped out of bed and rushed to find what clothes you had left.

"One moment please Ms. Thornhill," Larissa yelled out, her voice just as calm and authoritative as usual. You found that really hot but now wasn't the time. You got dressed as you watched Larissa find her robe from her private bathroom. You ran to her window hoping for an escape but found there was no way down. You looked around frantically for somewhere to hide and only found the bed or a dresser. Instead of shoving yourself into the standing dresser, you shot under the bed, wiggling to fit. You didn't see it but Larissa enjoyed the sight immensely.

She looked under the bed quickly and brought her finger to her lips and told you to be silent. You nodded, knowing you could not make a noise. She walked over to the door and unlocked it. It opened and you saw those famous red boots shoot into the room.

"I am so sorry to disrupt you so early and in your private chambers but we have a serious emergency."

"What would that be Ms. Thornhill?"

You could see Thornhill pacing.

"Y/N is missing," she shouted, the fear in her voice tangible.

Uh oh.

"What do you mean she is missing?" Larissa asked, never showing any reason for Marilyn to be suspicious of her.

"I went to speak to her this morning to check on her after a conversation we had and she never answered. That is when I realized her door was unlocked and her lights were still on. It is like she left in a hurry. Her phone was even still on her bed. I checked the campus and can't find her. All Nevermore vehicles are accounted for. I'm afraid for her safety."

"Is there any sign that would suggest that she is unsafe?" Larissa asked. There was a tone shift in her voice, maybe fake concern or maybe she was starting to become nervous too.

"No, but I am afraid due to the fact there is no sign she left Nevermore that she may be out on the grounds, only she never returned. Ms. Weems, I fear she may have been found by the monster."

"The monster?" Larissa asked. Wednesday had been trying to tell Larissa of a monster that supposedly was terrorizing the town. You would never admit it to Larissa but you believed Wednesday and obviously so did Thornhill, and she thought you were its latest victim.

"I know you believe it is a bear, but whatever it is, I am fearful that Ms. Y/N has been found by it."

"Well, if there is no sign of her after a second search of the campus, we will send a search team out on the grounds surrounding Nevermore. We will find her," Larissa said her voice sharp and commanding.

You watched as the red boots left the room and could hear and see the door shut and lock behind them. You immediately crawled out from under the bed and looked at Larissa, dumbfounded.

"A search party? Larissa. How am I going to explain where I was?" You were panicking now.

Weems came over and caressed your face, smiling comfortingly. She leaned down and kissed your lips once sweetly, afterward falling into your stare.

"Don't worry. You will hide here until we go search the grounds. Think of a believable lie at that time and go back to your room afterward. I will find you there later on. Sound like a plan?"

You nodded. You were going to have trouble thinking of a good lie, but you would have plenty of time. Larissa began walking towards the bathroom, pulling off her robe and revealing her body once again.

"You can watch me get dressed and then you have to get back under my bed my love," she said, winking.

You laughed and nodded, enjoying the view before you had to go back into hiding.

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #gwendoline christie #wednesday netflix

[mrs-bluemarine]

JanAUary: Flower Shop

with: Jodie x Blackmore

So excited to get this out so soon!! It's been a while since we've gotten so good ole jodiemore content. I hope you enjoy!!

I rlly wanna make a prt. 2 where Blackmore meets Ferdinand. I think that'd be funny

No warnings, just good ole fluff and flower symbolism. 1.3k words. Divider credits go to @/saradika !!

A gentle bell rang as Blackmore opened the door. Inside the tiny florist shop was a sight he'd never seen; as if the blond had stepped into a maze of flowers and plants, roses and tulips and flowers he'd never even seen before rowed the walls, floor to ceiling. The colors and smells all burning into his eyes and nose gave him a headache, not to mention the itchy feeling of a pollen induced sneeze.

"Achoo!"

"Ah, just a moment, please!"

The sound of a soft voice stirred Blackmore into a panic. He was frantically looking for the perfect bouquet. There! Simple red roses, countless of them wrapped in a beautiful matching red silk ribbon in a stand on the register counter. The size was incredible, bigger than the man's head. He couldn't begin to count how many there were. It was perfect for what he was planning.

Before he could touch- he didn't want to, anyway -a door behind the counter opened, and a young blonde woman appeared. Blackmore was taken back by her beauty, golden hair, two mismatched eyes set in her skull, skin like a doll. Blackmore wasn't one normally moved by someone's looks, but this woman before him and the soft eyes she gave him set a warm blush in his pale cheeks.

"Hello, sir! How can I help you today?" She asked in a honey sweet voice.

"Mm," He fidgets with the collar of his shirt, pointing a measly finger at the bouquet between them. "This... is it for sale?"

"Of, of course! I just put it together this morning, been meaning to add the finishing touches. It's such a pretty bouquet isn't it?"

The woman took the arrangement with deft hands, Blackmore watched her wrap the flowers with decorated papers, swaddling them as if the bouquet was a baby. His tired eyes caught sight of the name tag on her left breast. Jodie Ferdinand, owner.

"So, may I ask who this arrangement is for? A lover? A wife? Husband?" Jodie asked, her eyes narrowing the slightest in a teasing way. The thought of buying anything for a romantic partner was too much for the man. Shades of pink overcame his face, and he immediately shot down her silly ideas. "Oh, no, no, no! I'm... I-It's for my mother's, it's... it's their anniversary today. I wanted to give them something they'd both enjoy..."

"Oh!" Jodie's eyes flew wide open, "Forgive me for assuming, sir!"

Her hands paused on her work. "Although, may I give you a suggestion?"

Blackmore can't even stumble out an answer before the roses are forgotten, and Ms. Jodie is already zooming around the counter, making a bee-line for the far wall of flowers. He of course followed.

She talks nonchalantly as her hands caress flower petals, feeling their soft texture. "Roses are lovely, yes, but when it comes to buying someone a bouquet, you always want to find one with meaning!"

She takes out some long white flowers, ones Blackmore couldn't name, and Jodie leaves to find more. "Flowers speak when we can't, so it's good to have the perfect arrangement! Deep red flowers often signify romance, none more clearly than the beloved rose, so let's get you something perfect for the occasion!"

The woman looked so happy, a beaming light that fed the flowers around her. Her words didn't mean a lot to Blackmore, but the excitement and professionalism was addictive. He followed close behind like a lost puppy, watching her pull more flowers from the walls. He didn't understand what any of them meant, but the colors paired so so wonderfully, he felt like kicking himself for almost buying those roses, when something so much more perfect existed for his two mothers.

Jodie suddenly turned around, startling the older man. Her eyes had a light in them while she proposed the new bouquet. "Tada! What do you think? I've used pink and yellow lilies, with just a few white hyacinths."

"They look beautiful..." Blackmore murmured.

"Yay! I'm so glad! Let's go back to the front, I'll get them wrapped for you."

She had a new skip in her step, hair tails bouncing with her.

Just like before, Blackmore watched her again with more intrigue. The ribbon she used this time was a pleasant lavender color, with the wrap being a clean white. While she worked she spouted on about the meanings of the flowers she chose. The yellow lilies symbolized joy, the pink gratitude. The white hyacinths would balance out the color, but Jodie told him they symbolized love and prayer. How was it possible to create the perfect bouquet so easily? He was amazed. He pays for the bouquet. She charges him for a premade one, but when he asks, she only brushes him off.

"Don't worry about it. Since it's for such a special occasion, I don't feel right charging you extra."

"Thank you... for doing all of this for me." He said while gratefully taking the flowers into his arms. "You really didn't have to do all of this..."

"Oh, but it's no problem to me, sir! I love making bouquets, most of the time people just buy the premade arrangements, so getting to create new ones for customers is always so fun!" She sighs a little wistfully, resting her chin on her two fists. "It gets a little boring over here without company... I try to keep myself busy in any way that I can."

Blackmore felt his chest deflate. The disappointed look didn't look right on her face.

He felt something inside of him bubble up. A question that fought to be asked. "Would..."

The blond immediately clammed up when Jodie's two eyes made contact with his. One a deep ocean blue. The other a milky grey. He didn't realize before what that could entail. "B-Believe it or not, it's my boss' birthday in a few weeks! I wasn't sure what to get him, but after talking with you, I'm sure he'd enjoy a personal bouquet!"

"Oh! Do you think so? Your boss? How wonderful! Since I have some time, I'm sure I can make the perfect flower arrangement! Definitely something purple... Maybe some chrysanthemums!" Blackmore couldn't help but share her enthusiasm. A soft smile broke on his lips. "That sounds wonderful."

Jodie grabbed for something underneath the counter, coming back with a company card. "Take this, it has my phone number. You can call me whenever you'd like, maybe we can schedule another meeting so we can talk more about your boss' bouquet!"

"Yes, sounds like a date!"

As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Blackmore wants to eat them. "I-I mean, not like that, I–!"

Jodie beams, "Yeah! Kind of like a date! I can't wait." She extends her hand out to him. "You probably know already, but my name is Jodie. I own the place with my brother, Franz."

Another split second decision, his mouth is working before his brain does. "Everyone calls me Blackmore, but... you can call me Ritchie."

"Ritchie!" She tests the name out. He enjoys the way she says it. "What a pretty name, I love it. I can't wait to see you again, Ritchie!"

"Likewise."

His brain is malfunctioning. The woman before him is too cute, it's making him feel queasy. He needs to run away. Leave before he can make a bigger fool of himself. "I can't wait to speak to you again, Ms. Ferdinand! But I must get going, I hope your day is well, Ma'am!"

He zips out of the store like lightning, taking the younger woman by surprise. She isn't allowed to wish him off, and that makes her sad. But the promise of seeing the nice stranger again takes those emotions and flips them on its head. She's excited for her next meeting with Mr. Ritchie Blackmore.

#fics #💜 / love her madly #JanAUary2024 #selfship writing #f/o x oc #safeshipping

[herrscherrofyatta]

Splintered Heart

Chapter 12

Pairing: Kazuha x reader, Ayato x reader (could be both in a way?)

Genre: Arranged marriage, angst, multiple endings

A/n: this chapter has multiple povs, sorry about that

✧this a Fu Hua theme blog✧

"Oh my gosh, it's them!?" A group of small children gathers around behind a wall as they peek out to see the Kamisatos entering Ritou, the four were talking along with themselves as they walk down the stairs where Albedo was standing.

"Lady Y/n, would you mind growing a Cecelia for me?" They watched as an old woman went up to the couple who stopped to look at her.

Before either of them could respond, a group of people began to surround them, all requesting a flower to be grown.

"Everyone, please take a step back for safety precautions!" Thoma yells, trying to keep everyone from bombarding the woman who is getting overwhelmed.

Ayato is quick to respond but Y/n is faster, "everyone please, I will fulfill all your requests but it has to be when we're heading home, I'm sure you're all aware that we take up the work festivals give. We just want to enjoy ourselves for the day." She explains and it seems like work when everyone agreed and walked away.

The children watch as the crowd of people walks away pleased, some making kind comments about them.

"It's nice to see those two out and about, it's been a year since we saw Lady Y/n attend a festival." One of them calls over one of the children, which they quickly walk over to, grabbing onto their mom's hand.

"Yes, the poor girl. I heard the young man that challenge the decree was friends with her, he was so young to die like that." They walk away, walking past a white-haired with a red streak in his hair who was looking at the books.

—

Albedo looks up when he hears his ankle being called, he sees you running up to him, Ayato just behind you. "Albedo, we made it today."

He smiles at this, "ah, Y/n. It's good to see you, I assume work is finished?"

"Yes, Ayato and I will have these days off to enjoy ourselves." You explain, your eyes wondering to the covered drawing, "when does the reveal happen?"

Albedo looks at Ayato before looking away, "in just a few minutes actually, I sent the traveler away to speak to some friends. She will be here shortly."

You nod your head, "I see, well, looks like I have time to have a word with Mei." You let go of Ayato who just sends a smile at you as you begin to head back to where the books were at.

"Dear," you look at Ayato who calls you, "Maybe Thoma should accompany you, that way, you two can return quickly when it's time."

"That's fine by me," Thoma peeps in and you look at him, you knew that Ayato was only worried about your safety so you never really argued against him for this.

You wave at him before leaving with Thoma, walking up the stairs, you spot a couple of kids hiding as they stared at you and you smile at them.

Their faces brighten up at this as they rushed out from their hiding spot towards you, "Y/n!"

"Woah! Calm down." Thoma stumbles back from the sudden force as the kids hug you two, "you're not busy anymore!"

You laugh at this, hugging them tightly back as they snuggle against you, their small arms wrapped around you. "Yes, sorry for not playing with you guys, just really busy but now I'm free."

They smile at this as you let them go. You followed them as they lead you and Thoma to where Mei was, "Big sis said you wrote a book together, is that true?" One asks as Mei waves at you.

"Yes, hello Mei." You greet her as you sit down, and the children took a seat on the floor around you. "Now, what kind of store would you all like to hear this time?"

A little girl raised her hand, "can you tell us about the guy in the book? I want to know his story."

The other children were quick to agree, "yeah! What's so special about him that you had to write a book about him?!"

You smile at this, and gesture Thoma to sit down as well, scooting over to leave him space. Clearing your throat, you get ready, "this is the story of a brave warrior who stood up for what he believed, his name was Tomo."

Ayato's Pov

Looking over the painting, I see one that resembles Ayaka and smiles at this before my eyes make contact with the one beside it. Narrowing my eyes, it looks awfully like Kazuha, I knew he was here, after all that's why their group went on their little treasure hunt.

"Lord Ayato," I'm pulled out of my thoughts as I see Albedo approaching, "Ayato is fine."

Albedo let out a chuckle at this, making me raise a brow at his action. He seems to see my confusion, "oh, your wife said the same thing when we first met, a sense of deja vu." He says.

"I see. Was there something you wanted to tell me?"

"The revealing is soon, I just wanted to give a heads up since I don't see your wife and housekeeper."

There's a crowd of people already gathering around, "I should probably go get them, I'll see you soon."

Albedo nods his head before walking back to where the last drawing was at. Making sure no one was watching, I slipped away from everyone else and go up the stairs where I see in the distance Thoma and Y/n, while a group of small children listen in on what she was saying.

Getting close, I come to a stop as her voice, "...the brave man couldn't let the Shogan reach his friends and hurt them, so he challenge her soldiers and he saved all his friends, the end." She smiles at them as a woman hands her child to Thoma, "thank you for looking after him for a bit."

"It's no problem." He says as one of the children raises a hand, making Y/n look over at them. "Yes?"

"Did the brave man go back to his friends after that?"

Her face drops at this but she manages a small smile to them, with a shake of her head, "no.....he died and went somewhere better," she says and Thoma looks over at her, there was hesitation in her voice.

The children let out a small 'awww' as a means that they didn't like the ending to it and I can't help but chuckle at this.

Averting my eyes away, I remember what Tomo told me a couple of nights before he challenge the Decree, he also gave me a letter to give to Y/n when she and Kazuha would at least be on good terms.

"But! People like brave man aren't really gone, they will always have a spot in our hearts and give people courage." She says as Thoma places his hand on her back.

"But why did the Shogunate hurt people, is she bad?"

"Yeah! Why did the brave man do something like that?"

But I never gave it to her, I don't know what he wrote in there but it must be his reasons why he did it. I had suspected that he must have known Kazuha at some point, he said he had a travel partner but never said any names.

Y/n's voice snapped me back to reality, "I'm sure she's not a bad person but her actions did hurt many people with visions and adventurers, it caused a revolution. The brave man wanted this pain to come to a stop even if he wasn't there to witness it, he started the spark to it."

"-and, that brave man did this because he had people he loved and cared about, he was willing to do anything to keep them safe," Thoma says, one of the kids tugging on his headband as he tries to peel the kid off him. "We can all understand that, right?"

The children stare at him and this is where I decide to step in, "Thoma, Y/n, it's time."

They all look at me, Thoma stands up after succeeding in getting the kid off him as Y/n stands up, straightening her clothes from any wrinkles.

"Sorry, we lost track of time." They say as they wave bye at the kids as they ran away. Y/n laughs at this before the three of us go back to the main plaza where there's already a large crowd and we settled in watching from afar.

I see Ayaka among the crowd and it seems like she caught my eyes as she waves over at us before going back to listening to Albedo.

"Welcome everyone to the Magnificent Irodori festival, we are in the final moments of the last portrait reveal and this couldn't have been possible if not for the hard work of the Yashiro Commissioner and his wife. Now, we will reveal the last portrait done by Calx."

Everyone claps at this, some glancing back at us standing there while others keep looking forward.

They begin to count down and everyone is shocked to find the last kasen in the portrait not there, only in the background.

Y/n smiles at this as the man speaking is now nervous and I smile at this before Albedo began to speak.

Everyone is quiet, listening to him as he tells his inspiration and everyone was in awe as they clap. Once he was done, I hear Y/n cough and I look down to see her covering her face, coughing once more.

"Are you alright?" I ask her, she did seem a bit pale now that I got a good look at her.

"I'm fine, just a little thirsty." She reassures me, coughing more as I place her on her back, patting her softly.

"Thoma, please go with her to get a drink." Thoma, who was staring into the crowd looks at me before at Y/n, "of course."

"I'll be back," The h/c haired says before Thoma guides her away from the crowd as I spot Lumine and Paimon in the distance, speaking to each other before approaching Yae.

Crossing my arms, a few minutes later, I see them coming to me and I can't help but smirk at this before composing myself.

Your Pov

After getting some water for yourself, you decided to look around and do some shopping such as browsing the books on sale but you don't buy any food for fear that they could be poisoned.

You left Ayato and Ayaka to have some sibling time as you spent wandering around with Thoma who at some point had to go back to the estate to bring Ayato's wallet that he forgot.

Waving at him, you're left alone with Mei who is quickly getting overwhelmed by the long line at her bookstall.

You look at the marker in your hand before looking at the book, "come on, this is your idea, I just wrote it." Mei encourages you to add your signature to the first copy of the book.

Looking at her, she nods her head before you sign it. You see Yoimiya in the line and she jumps with excitement when you hand her the book as Klee has one as well.

You see familiar faces in the crowd and soon enough, the boxes of copies Mei had with her had run out, so you two had to close up early.

"Lady Y/n!" You see the crowd from earlier and quickly rush over, leaving Mei to rest at the stall.

In the middle of the, you begin your performance as the place was covered in various plants and flowers in minutes. Laughing, the children are occupied by a couple of homes swinging them as you spot Thoma watching in the distance.

With a gesture of your wrist, a vine grabs ahold of him, dragging him over as he almost trips over, "Woah!?"

He laughs as you look around, growing Cecelias and roses in the shapes of Dodoco's for Klee as she jumps for joy, amazed at the number of flowers all around.

"Big brother, put me on your shoulders so I can see the show better!" But before he could even say anything, she squeaks in delight as she runs off to go play with the flowers that seem to be able to change colors, making you and Thoma surprised.

You smile at this, looking at your hands before at your vision that seemed to glow brighter than before, watching as the vines that had flowers growing on them began to decorate the small area.

The rest of the day went like that until it was time to head back home, waving goodbye to some of the elders, you walk away with Thoma who still had a flower crown you grew for the children earlier.

"Today must have been the most I've seen you smile and laugh while having fun," you look at him, picking out the petals in your hair as you just shake your head with a smile.

"Well, the job is tiring but it has its moments," you say before spotting Ayaka and Ayato just ahead. "But I'm exhausted, that's enough for me." He laughs as you speed walk over to them.

Ayato quickly grabs the bags in your hands despite your protests as Ayaka goes by your side and begins to speak about her time with Ayato.

The four of you stand there for a few moments before deciding to head back as it was getting dark. "We should have a hot pot to celebrate." Thoma comments as you give him a look, "celebrate what exactly?"

"Well......to celebrate the first festival you attend in a while and because you had so much fun today." He grins at you and your face flushes at this before looking away.

"It's nothing special." You mutter as Ayato's hand begins to snake around your waist, making you look up at him to see him smiling at you.

"I think it's a great idea, don't you think so my dear?" He asks and you shyly nod your head as you look down, your face was burning up to the tip of your ears.

He chuckles and it seemed like only your face got more red at the sound of it. They laugh at this and can't help but break out a tiny smile, it was moments like these that made you cherish them, they were family although not blood-related but by bond.

Walking down the path to leave, Ayato keeps his hand on your waist, "watch your step."

There was nothing you would trade for this, surrounded by your close friends in the rare free time you have.

"Y/n!"

You froze as you slowly look back to see the one person you waited so long to see those years ago back when you never wanted this life. You kept waiting but that patience ran out long ago as you moved on.

"K... Kazuha?"

Masterlist

A/n: ooooooo, I wonder if anyone noticed twd lines I add.

Thoma's #1 ending (it was supposed to come out before this chapter but had family coming over)

Series Masterlist

Tag list:

@thetwinkims @aurressence @woncafe @loveknows @aixaingela @suzuyamitsuki @yourlocalwalkingbi @kimura-uzuri @xiaosimpdamn @twistedrxses @pagkaiin @jihaegguk @prefesro @aria-haru @forgot-the-acronym @yoshikuno @dazaiscum @yeahhemmings- @cocosakuya15 @bananazzzen @kaekane @fluffimemes @zannivrs @kazeniya @astreankitsune @eclipse247 @eissaaaa

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #genshin x reader #ayato x reader #ayato imagines #ayato kamisato #ayato x y/n #ayato x you #ayato kamisato imagines #kazuha

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

I’ve just started watching Full Bloom on HBO Max, and it’s official — I’m in love with Elizabeth Cronin

#I MEAN— #😫👏🏼 #and she’s got the raspy voice #the raspy voiceeeee #the nails #do you know how much it kills me every time I see her dagger nails and see the first two chopped short???? #god in fucking heaven #I know she’s in a loving relationship #but I want this woman to be my wife #the way I would fall at her feet #yes please just let me follow you around and watch you arrange flowers #I just want to photograph her #for fucks sake #a goddess #a curly-haired stunning inky gothic goddess #I’m so in love #ungh 🥺 #Elizabeth Cronin #full bloom #hbo Max #flowers

[jackharlou]

can you write about dating 2018 jack era like pre fame

"do you think I'll make it?" - Jack asked you while you were laying on the grass of his family's house backyard.

"you believe in yourself, and there's not a more powerful thing than that, so yes, I do think you'll make it. I feel you're destinated to be so big" - you said looking at the dark sky full of stars, while having his hand between yours.

"I want many things but the most important one is that I don't want to lose you in the way. I want you to experiment everything with me, to grow with me"

"Jack, I love you, but don't you think that's a bit unrealistic? You'll pursue your career while I'll go to college far away from here"

He got quiet for a few seconds, thinking about the future - "probably our paths will make us be away from each other, but if there's one thing I'm sure of is that it's you, and it will always be you. I want you to be my wife one day, in a few years. I'm sure we'll meet people but I won't love or settle with anyone who isn't you. I truly hope you feel the same way"

You were about to answer when his mom called you two for dinner.

The following days were the last days of school, so you all focused on the parties, on giving away Jack's homemade CD. That lead to you planning a party for it, something like a release party and he couldn't be happier about it because majority of all yours friends knew his songs. He felt in cloud 9 and he only wanted to be by your side. He knew from an early age he needed you by his side.

As you thought and knew, your paths went on separate directions. Jack was so focused on his music and growing career while you were finishing college.

You still talked here and there. Both of you dated people but never made it official because it didn't felt right.

He couldn't make it to your graduation day but he made sure to made you feel his love and proudness. He sent you a huge arrangement of your favorite flowers and a Rolex watch, since you always told him about how good he looked with his.

You went back to Louisville, but didn't told him, since you planned to attend his concert and surprise him.

He was on stage giving his all when he looked down and in the first row, he saw you. He smiled widely and got all red and shy. As soon as he finished the song he got down the stage and walked towards you with security and Urban following him with his camera on.

"remember when you told me you knew it was me, that it will always be me and that you hoped I felt the same way?" - you asked him, not caring about the people around you recording everything. He only nodded with shiny eyes - "I hope you know it's only us for me too"

He didn't say anything. He just softly placed his hands on your cheeks and leaned in to share the kiss you've been dreaming of for years.

The fans started screaming, not understanding who you were or what was happening. Urban and the guys started screaming too, knowing damn well you two were made for each other and being the number one fans of your love.

"I won't let you leave my side again" - he murmured on your lips.

"please don't" - you answered back.

He lifted you and placed you on the other side of the fence. The rest of the concert you spend it dancing and singing with Urban and the good friends you also left behind when you went away to pursue your own career.

When the concert was over Jack quickly ran towards the group and lifted you, making your legs surround his body.

"I told you you'll make it" - you said. He answered with the smile that makes you fall harder for him every time and with a very much needed and dreamed kiss.

#jack harlow #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fic #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow fluff

[applepiewinchesters]

Lover (Poly!Aziraphale x Crowley x Female Reader)

Word Count: 2,423

Requested by: @artlovingbre​

REQUESTS ARE OPEN. 

Warnings: Angst, Death

It was around the early 1800’s when Crowley and Aziraphale first met you. 

You were mixed in with all the other market sellers, beside you were fishermen selling the catch of the day, on the other side, a mother and her children selling eggs. The children were obviously exhausting their mother by running around while she was dealing with customers. 

You, however, were selling flowers. The only flower vendor in the whole market. You sold bouquets, single flowers, and had at least five different kinds of species. 

The two men knew who you were, you lived on the edge of town in your parents former home, making money from selling the flowers from your garden. Crowley and Aziraphale had watched you for weeks, making sure you got home safe, observing you at the market. 

Aziraphale worried the two were being too “creepy” but Crowley attempted to reassure him that there was nothing wrong with admiring from afar, even if he did believe Aziraphale was half right. Hopefully they didn’t scare you away. 

The two finally got the courage to go up to you when your flower selling season was almost up. 

In the winter you worked at a local tavern as a barmaid. Even though it smelled and you had to deal with a fair share of drunk, perverted men, you worked to keep your childhood home. Secretly, Crowley made sure those pervs got what was coming to them. 

“Today’s the day!” the angel said excitedly, sitting beside Crowley on a bench, right across from where you were selling your flowers. 

You smiled kindly at the older woman who you were handing a bouquet to. Crowley felt his heart flutter, grimacing at the feeling. 

“How are we going to approach this?” Aziraphale asked, breaking Crowley from his thoughts. 

“Approach what?” the demon asked, raising an eyebrow at Aziraphale. 

“Have you really forgotten?” Aziraphale asked, exasperation evident in his tone, “We’re going to talk to her today!”

“Oh yes, the human,” Crowley responded, turning his gaze back to you. He tried to act as though he didn’t care, but Aziraphale and a share of pervs with broken ribs and nightmares would beg to differ. 

“Yes, Y/N, how should we approach her?” the angel asked. 

“Like this,” Crowley answered, getting to his feet and making his way across the market towards you. 

“But!? Crowley!” Aziraphale said, following closely behind. 

Crowley ignored the obviously nervous angel, walking straight up to you. 

You looked up from a bouquet you were arranging to look at the two men. 

“May I help you?” you asked, standing up and brushing your hands off on the front of your dress. 

Aziraphale stepped forward, “Why yes my dear, we would like to buy one of your bouquets.” 

Not too many men came up to your little booth, but the smile on the blonde man’s face put you at ease. 

“Yes, of course!” you said, moving aside so they could have a better view of the bouquets you’ve made. 

“How long have you been selling flowers?” Crowley suddenly asked you, even if he already knew the answer. 

“Since my father died two years ago, I use the money to stay in my parents’ home. It’s my only work besides the tavern sir,” you explained. 

“Ah yes, the beautiful one that only works there in the winter, correct?” Crowley commented, a charming smile spreading across his face. 

You blushed, looking down to hopefully hide the redness on your cheeks, but Crowley caught it. 

“We’ll take that one,” Aziraphale spoke up, pointing to a bouquet of petunias. 

“Yes sir, just let me wrap it up for you,” you said. 

“Please, call me Aziraphale my dear,��� the angel told you, “and this is Crowley, we have admired your handiwork for some time now.” 

Blushing once again, you smiled, “Well thank you, it isn’t much really, more of a past time,” you said, handing Aziraphale the bouquet. 

“Well, your work is still quite beautiful, as are you,” Aziraphale said. 

The angel handed you a small sack of coins, which was much heavier than the amount you usually charged. A look inside the bag confirmed your suspicions. 

“Oh, I can’t accept this!” you said hurriedly, holding out the bag. 

Crowley dismissed it with a wave of his hand, “For all your hard work.” 

“Have a lovely day, Y/N,” Aziraphale told you before he and Crowley disappeared into the crowd of people. 

It left you wondering why the two men were so generous, and how exactly they knew your name. 

***

Crowley and Aziraphale began visiting you almost every day, even at your home. The three of you took walks together, your arms looped through theirs. You also ate meals together, read together, and soon they even began staying the night, at times when men at the tavern were a bit too friendly. 

All three of you became close rather quickly, and it wasn’t long before the topic of “something more” came up. 

It was obvious both men admired you, and you yourself admired both men just the same. So, they courted you, taking you to the theater, to dinner, and other places that you’d never experienced before. 

The two were also completely honest about what they were, and their powers fascinated you. While Aziraphale did things like make sure a local woman’s baby was born healthy, Crowley did things like make sure a priest visited the local brothel every night. 

Your relationship with the two men was something you’d never expected, but it was beautiful in it’s own way. 

At least it was, before you began getting sick. 

It started with a cough, which you’d attributed to the changing of the seasons. It wasn’t uncommon for you to get a cough or something like that during that particular time of year. 

But you began deteriorating quickly, becoming too weak to work or even make your own meals. It escalated when Crowley and Aziraphale found you unconscious one afternoon after you had fainted. The two took care of you, feeding you and making sure you got enough rest. 

As the days went by and you didn’t get better, the angel and demon became worried. They stood in the doorway of your bedroom, watching you sleep. They could hear your heart beating too fast, working hard to keep you alive. 

“Can’t you just miracle her better?!” Crowley hissed, turning to look at Aziraphale. 

“You know I cannot upset the natural order of things,” Aziraphale said, eyebrows furrowing together with worry. 

“This,” Crowley said, motioning to you angrily, “is not the natural order of things!” 

“I know you are worried about losing her just as much as I am but she is strong, she will…,” Aziraphale spoke. 

Crowley was quick to cut him off, “Do not say she will be alright, you and I both know how this looks!” 

The demon stomped away, leaving the angel standing alone in the doorway, giving one last look at you before following Crowley. 

It was only a few days later when you stopped eating and started sleeping more, the two men never leaving your side as they listened to your labored breathing. 

Late one evening Aziraphale was desperately trying to get you to eat while Crowley held your hand, rubbing the back of it softly with his thumb. 

“Zira, please, I can’t…” you said, getting cut off by your own violent coughing. 

Blood splattered the handkerchief Aziraphale held to your mouth, Crowley chewed the inside of his cheek, worry bubbling up inside him. He felt as if he could throw up. 

Aziraphale wiped the blood from your lips, placing the handkerchief on the bedside table. 

“I’m so tired,” you whispered, looking over at Crowley. 

“I know darling, I know,” he told you, tucking some hair behind your ear. 

Your skin had a thin sheen of sweat covering it but you were shivering. Your lips were dry and cracked and you were as white as a ghost. 

“I can’t...I can’t stay awake much longer,” you said. 

Crowley and Aziraphale looked up at each other, both sharing the same look of sadness, maybe even acceptance. 

“You can sleep if you want love, we will be here when you wake, I promise,” Aziraphale told you, smiling softly. 

“We would never leave our beautiful girl alone,” Crowley reassured, making you crack a weak smile. 

“I-I love you, both of you,” you told the two men. Aziraphale grasped your other hand and brought it to his lips, kissing your knuckles. 

“We love you too my dear,” the angel said. 

“Always,” Crowley added. 

You smiled softly again, eyes falling shut as your breathing slowed. 

They never opened again, as your heart gave out around two in the morning, your chest rising and falling one last time. 

Crowley was stone faced as he dropped your hand, running a shaky hand through his hair as he stood. 

“She’s gone,” he said, turning away from Aziraphale. 

The angel had begun crying silently, your hand was still warm as he clutched it tightly. 

Crowley moved towards your bedroom door, “I’ll get the doctor,” he spoke, leaving Aziraphale to grieve alone as he headed out the door of your home. 

Once Crowley was outside he turned, slamming his fist into the side of your house, not caring if it hurt. He let out a scream, one filled with pain and sorrow, which would surely wake or scare anyone around. 

It had taken him this long to find someone who accepted him just as much as Aziraphale did, and in the blink of an eye, you were gone. 

There was no coming back, no second chances. 

***

Present Day 

It was a chilly fall afternoon as Crowley watched Aziraphale convince yet another person to not buy from his bookshop. 

Crowley was lounging in an armchair, an amused look on his face when his angel came to sit on the couch across from him. 

“What is it?” Aziraphale asked, picking up his mug of cocoa and taking a sip. 

“I’ll never understand why you opened a bookshop where you never let anyone buy any books,” Crowley answered, chuckling. 

“Well I’ve collected them, why should other people get to have them?” Aziraphale asked, attempting to defend himself. 

Crowley couldn’t help but smile fondly, “Should’ve just built an at home library angel.” 

Aziraphale huffed, turning away from Crowley and taking another sip of his hot cocoa. 

The bell to the shop entrance chimed but neither man looked up. Usually customers either just left after a few minutes or Aziraphale quite literally chased them out. 

Whoever had come was wandering down an aisle towards them. Crowley was ready to watch Aziraphale shoo someone else out. That is, until he finally looked up. 

He met a familiar pair of eyes, his own hidden by his signature dark sunglasses. 

Aziraphale let out a soft gasp when he looked up as well to see what had shocked Crowley. 

There was no mistaking who it was. Your hair was longer, your skin no longer pale and clammy. Your usual dress was replaced by jeans and a big sweater, the sleeves rolled up to reveal an intricate flower tattoo on your left forearm. 

But it was you. Alive. Healthy. 

Your eyes lit up, a smile, your beautiful smile, breaking your originally nervous expression. 

“It is you,” you finally spoke, tears welling up in your eyes. 

“Y/N?” Crowley asked, taking off his sunglasses as he stood. 

You nodded, no longer able to hold yourself back as you rushed forward, wrapping your arms around Crowley tightly, burying your face into his chest. 

Crowley was stunned to say the least, but returned the embrace. 

A tearful Aziraphale joined in the hug, holding both of you tightly. 

It was a few minutes before you let each other go. The angel and demon almost didn’t, afraid you’d disappear and it would become some sick joke. 

“H-How are you here?” Aziraphale asked, breaking the stunned silence. 

“Well I mean...it’s sort of crazy,” you said, laughing a bit. 

“We’ve got all day darling,” Crowley told you. 

Once you were all settled in the armchair and on the couch, the CLOSED sign hanging in the door of the shop, mugs of hot cocoa on the coffee table, you explained how you found them again. 

Your whole life you felt as if something was missing. No matter what you did you still felt...lost. You weren’t happy back home in America, and with a strained relationship with your parents, you really had nothing holding you there. 

So, you moved to London, began working for a high end florist company, but even with your dream job, you still couldn’t figure out what was missing. 

Then you began getting flashes of what you thought could be your over active imagination. 

Sitting outside under a tree, reading with two men. Selling flowers at a market. Getting sick. Dying. 

It all came back to you at once one night while you were asleep. Your life before, Crowley and Aziraphale. 

You figured the two must have still been around somewhere. You looked up their names, and while Aziraphale wasn’t a common name, you found nothing on him. Yet, you did find an Anthony J. Crowley. 

Taking your chances, you wrote down his address and headed to that rather luxurious flat building. You saw him walk out and climb into a black Bentley, too caught up in the moment to say anything at the time. 

It took you a few more days to track down Aziraphale’s bookshop , but when you finally did you wasted not another second and walked through the front door. 

Now here you were. 

Aziraphale took your hand in his, “Well, we are more than happy to have you back my dear, if you’ll have us of course.” 

You smiled, squeezing the angel’s hand, “I’d love nothing more,” you said, leaning forward to kiss the angel. 

“Oi, what about me?” Crowley asked, squeezing beside you on the couch. You giggled, placing a hand on his cheek and kissing him softly. 

Crowley sighed, you even tasted the same, with a hint of mint flavor from what he assumed was your chapstick. 

“This calls for celebration, dinner at The Ritz?” asked Aziraphale. 

“Sounds perfect,” Crowley said and you agreed. 

Crowley watched you stand, looping your arm with Aziraphale’s. 

“Coming love?” you asked, turning to Crowley. 

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Crowley assured, letting you loop your other arm through his. 

Maybe there were second chances, and Crowley silently thanked whoever had brought you back to them. 

AN: Well this is my first fanfic in quite a while but I hope you enjoyed it! Thank you so much for reading and please check out my other stories in my masterlist. Love you all and thank you once again for reading! - Sara 

#good omens #good omens fanfic #crowley good omens #aziraphale good omens #good omens imagine #good omens angst #aziraphale x crowley #anthony j crowley #poly good omens #polyamarous good omens #aziraphale #crowley #good omens poly #good omens reader #crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #crowley x aziraphale x reader #David Tennant #michael sheen

[waitimcomingtoo]

Disobedience

Part one

Synopsis: after getting tortured by HYDRA, you have to obey every command you’re given

Masterlist

“Hi, baby.” Peter wrapped his arms around you as you sat in front of your laptop, kissing the top of your head before rubbing your shoulders. “What are you doing?”

“Um.” You folded your lips in, knowing he wasn’t going to like what you had to say. “I’m just making arrangements.”

“Arrangements?” He wondered as he looked at your computer screen. He saw that you were on florists website, scrolling through the different variations of flowers.

“Why are you looking at floral arrangements?” He asked in grave voice as he slowly pulled his hand away from you.

“Well.” You swallowed, thinking of a way to break the news gently. “I figured it would make things a little easier on you and my family if I started planning it now.”

“Planning what?” Peter asked, intentionally playing dumb.

“My funeral, Peter.” You told calmly. “In case you guys want to have a service once Mr. Stark-“

“No.” Peter cut you off and began to walk away. “Not happening. You’re not dying.”

“We have to talk about this, Peter.” You complained as you followed him. “You can’t just pretend this isn’t going happen.”

“No, we don’t have to talk about this.” Peter retorted. “I still have time to figure out a cure. You gave me a year.”

“No, Peter.” You sighed. “You gave yourself a year.”

“What are you talking about?” He asked as he stopped walking. You stared at him for a long time, not wanting to tell him the real reason you agreed to his request.

“Peter, I never wanted to agree to that.” You said softly. “But I didn’t have a choice. You asked for a year and I had to say yes. If I could’ve said no, I would have.”

“I’m still working.” Peter protested. “It’s only been three months since I started helping them in the lab. Dr. Banner and I-“

“Dr. Banner can’t fix this.” You cut him off.” He still doesn’t even know what’s causing it. The only people who know who can fix me are at HYDRA.”

“Well we can’t exactly send them a text and ask how to reverse their mind control.” Peter snapped.

“I know.” You said. “That’s why I’m going to them.”

“What?”

“I’m going back to the headquarters where they kept me and demanding that they reverse it.” You explained. “They’re the only ones who can fix this.”

“You can’t be serious.” Peter furrowed his eyebrows as he watched you pack a bag. “Y/n, they tortured you for three months. We thought you were dead. We…I buried a casket.”

“They caught me off guard last time.” You corrected. “This time, I’m going to them. I thought it through and I have a plan. I’m going and I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”

“You can’t go there.” Peter shook his head. “It’s too dangerous. I won’t allow it.”

“Last time I checked, you weren’t the boss of me.” You scoffed, growing frustrated with him. “I’m going and you’re not stoping me.”

“Y/n, I need you to think about this.” Peter began to panic. “I know you want the cure but this is not the way to get it. This will get you killed.”

You tilted your head and stared at him, hoping the irony of his words would hit him.

“But that’s what you want.” He realized. “You have a death wish and you’re granting it.”

“Its either I find a cure or die trying.” You shrugged. “It’s worth the risk for me.”

“No.” Peter said firmly. “You’re not going back there. You’re not going through with this plan.”

“Watch me.” You said spitefully as you zipped your bag. You began to walk towards the door and Peter panicked at the thought of losing you all over again.

“I command you to stop.” Peter said sternly, and you stopping in your tracks. You didn’t turn around, too angry with him for using your condition to look at him.

“Do not going through with this plan.” He continued. “Do not go to HYDRA. Do not try to fix this yourself.”

You listened to his commands and felt yourself reluctantly losing your ability to go. You still desperately wanted to go, but felt physically unable to bring yourself to do so. You turned around slowly and looked at Peter with seething anger.

“If you can so easily use my condition against me, then maybe you’re not the guy I thought you were.” You said slowly, making Peter’s face fall.

“Baby, I’m sorry. You know I hate to-“

“If you’re sorry, then take it back.” You challenged him. “Take the command back.”

“I…no.” Peter said weakly. “I can’t. I can’t let you do this.”

“Then I can’t be your girlfriend.” You laughed sadly as a tear rolled down your cheek. “I thought you were a good guy. I must’ve been thinking of someone else.”

“Y/n…” Peter whispered, the weight of his actions breaking his heart.

“Can I go, sir?” You asked him, giving him a look that told him not to say no. You’d grown out of calling people “sir”, and he knew that. You were saying it now to drive in how much he hurt you.

“Yeah.” He swallowed, eyes falling to the floor as he realized what he had done. “You can go.”

You shook your head at him before walking out of the room, leaving him to wallow in the guilt. You gave your hair a stressful tug as you walked through the hallway, trying to come up with a way to get around Peter’s command. You didn’t have to think too long before you saw Bucky coming towards you.

“Bucky, can I ask you something?” You asked as he approached. Bucky stopped and nodded quietly.

“Do you care about me or my well being?” You wondered.

“No, not really.” He said softly.

“Good.” You nodded. “Then tell me to go through with my plan.”

“Go through with your plan.” He told you, and your felt your ability to go return.

“Thank you.” You smiled in relief. “I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome.” He nodded. “Wait, are you gonna die?”

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Can I have your milk frother if you do?” He asked.

“Yeah. You can use it whenever you want.” You told him with a short laugh. He gave you a small smile in return.

“Okay. Thanks.” He said before walking away. You watched as he left, never really understanding him.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled to yourself before retreating to your room. You grabbed your bag and jumped out the window, using your powers to fly your way to HYDRA headquarters.

~

“Y/n?” Peter knocked softly at your door a few hours later. “Can I come in?”

When you didn’t answer, he assumed you were giving him the silent treatment.

“I know you’re mad at me about before but Mr. Stark says we should never go to bed angry.” He tried again. “Do you want to watch a movie? I’ll let you pick. And then gaslight you into picking a movie I want to watch.”

Again, he received no answer.

“I’m joking.” He followed up. “Sort of.”

He sighed when he got no response but didn’t let it deter him.

“Can you answer me, please?” He asked, careful not to give you a command. When you didn’t respond, he got worried and opened your door. He didn’t see you anywhere but noticed the bag you packed before was gone.

“Damn it.” He sighed and pulled at his hair. “Damn it, damn it, damn it.”

Peter ran into the kitchen where he knew most of the team would be to tell them what happened.

“Y/n isn’t here.” Peter announced. “I think she went to HYDRA headquarters.”

“What makes you say that?” Steve wondered.

“She told me she was going to HYDRA headquarters.” Peter answered sheepishly.

“Why didn’t you stop her?” Tony asked.

“I tried.” Peter defended. “I told her not to go.”

“Then how did this happen?” Tony sighed.

“I have no idea.” Bucky said as he sipped his coffee, getting milk froth on his upper lip.

“Get to the jet.” Tony said as he stood up. “We’ll bring her back.”

“Okay.” Peter nodded, trying to keep his calm. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”

~

You landed in front of HYDRA headquarters and walked to the front gate. You had powers similar to the Scarlet Witch, but your energy manifested in a deep violet. You used your blasts of energy to knock out the guards at the front gate, not giving them a second look at you marches past. You knocked down anyone in your way until you reached the room where you were kept. A chill ran down your spin as the memories of your torture came flooding back. You made sure the light was on before entering the room, bracing yourself for anything you might see.

You only got a few steps into the room before you heard the door slam behind you, a familiar sound that made your skin crawl. You turned around and saw Elisa Sinclair, the woman in charge of torturing you, standing with her back against the door.

“Y/n?” She smiled. “I thought that was you. There are alarms going off all over building. You really did a number on my guards out front. I always knew you were different from the other Avengers. You were never afraid to get your hands dirty.”

“What did you do to me?” You asked as you raised your fists. Purple energy pulsed in and around your fists, showing her your we’re serious.

“HYDRA improved you. Have you returned to give thanks?” She asked through a smirk.

“No.” You snapped. “I’m here to reverse it.”

“I should’ve known you’d be ungrateful.” Her smile fell. “Such a shame. All that technology gone to waste. You were going to be our first genetically modified soldier. Any command given, you accept. No hesitation. No fear. Just listen and obey. You would have been beautiful.”

“You ruined me.” You swallowed angrily, trying to stay calm.

“We made you better.” Elisa retorted. “But you were taken from us before we could finish. Now, you’re nothing but a half cocked experiment. We have no use for you.”

“Then reverse it.” You shouted, advancing on her. “Undo what you did to me.”

“Why would we do that?”

“Because I’m telling you to.” You said, wishing you had a better comeback. She gave you a condescending smile and shook her head.

“I don’t think someone in your position has any right to tell other people what to do.” She pouted. “In fact, why don’t you-“

You hit her with a blast of energy before she could finish her sentence. She began to choke as you suspended her in the air. You threw her against the back wall, knocking the wind out of her.

“You’re not giving me any commands.” You seethed. “I’d die before I obeyed you.”

“I can arrange that.” She said in a strangled voice. Before she could speak again, a web was shot to cover her mouth.

“Silence, whore.” Peter’s voice came from the doorway. You stifled a laugh at his endearing yet non-threatening presence Elisa looked at him.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly followed up. “I normally don’t call women that but you hurt my girl and it felt warranted.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked him as you turned around. You let Elisa go, dropping her to the ground with a thud.

“I came incase you needed my help.” He explained. “But it looks like you got this, so I’m just gonna stand here if you need me. Good job, baby!”

“You shouldn’t be here.” You repeated. “She’s dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous.” He said confidently. “And dressed to the occasion. What kind of villain wears khakis?”

“Oh, I see.” Elisa’s laughter sounded in the empty room. “Is that Peter?”

You stayed silent, hoping Peter wouldn’t speak either.

“Answer me.” She said, and you obeyed.

“Yes.” You answered, feeling your mouth go dry.

“She spoke about you all the time.” Elisa looked past you, right at Peter. “Every time I put her in that dark room and-“

“Don’t.” Peter gulped. “I don’t want to hear that. I don’t want to know what you did.”

“She used to cry for you. Everyday she’d tell me, “Peter’s gonna stop you. Peter’s gonna come for me. Peter will find me.”” She mocked your voice. “He never came, did he? Never rescued you.”

“No.” You responded as you stared at him. “He didn’t.”

“Does that make you mad, Y/n? Be honest.” Elisa commanded.

“No.” You shook your head. “He didn’t know where I was.”

“But you thought he stopped looking, didn’t you?” She continued. “Don’t lie to me.”

“Yes.” You answered against your will. “I thought he gave up.”

“How did that make you feel? Tell him the truth.” She ordered.

“I was angry. I was angry with him for giving up.” You admitted. Despite not being able to see his face, you could tell Peter was upset.

“You were pronounced dead.” He said weakly. “I went to your funeral. I thought we had lost you.”

“I was never dead. Just with HYDRA, wishing I was.”

“Because he stopped looking. Look him in the eyes and tell him that.” Elisa ordered.

“Because you stopped looking.” You told Peter as tears ran down your face.

“Hm.” She sighed and looked at her nails. “Kill him.”

Your eyes widened as the urge to kill Peter took over your body.

“Peter, run.” You ordered, and he took off running.

“Go after him.” Elisa said simply. “Kill him.”

Your legs began to move but you shot a blast of energy forward to knock yourself backwards.

“No.” You cried. “Don’t do this.”

“Why?” She taunted. “Don’t you want to make him pay for not coming to rescue you?”

“I don’t need rescuing. I’m not gonna hurt him.” You said through gritted teeth as you fought the urge as hard as you could.

“That’s not up to you, is it?” She teased.

“You don’t have to do this.” You looked at her desperately.

“I know.” She smirked and knelt down beside you. “You do.”

Your body began to move against your will towards the direction Peter ran in. You put your hands forward and kept a steady blast flowing from your hands. It held you back, but you knew it wouldn’t last.

“Kill him.” She commanded again. “And don’t listen to him if he tells you to stop.”

Your body stumbled forward and you were defenseless. You moved in the direction towards Peter, finding him almost immediately. You used your energy to create a force field that held him in place, lifting him in the air as you cried.

“Peter.” You sniffled. “She told me to kill you.”

“It’s okay.” He assured you. “Just don’t kill me.”

“I can’t.” You tightened the force field around him, constricting his breathing. “She told me not to listen to you.”

“Okay.” Peter gulped. “That’s okay.”

You fought the command long enough to drop him to the ground, fighting with yourself to leave him alone. Peter webbed your arms to your sides, giving you momentary relief.

“Peter, you have to run.” You cried. “You have to go.”

“I can’t leave you here.” He said as he stood up. “They could capture you again.”

“I’m gonna kill you if you don’t leave. I don’t have a choice.” You said as your reluctantly fought against the webbing. The webs were breaking and you knew he wouldn’t be safe for much longer.

“I can’t leave you to be tortured.” He insisted. “I lost you once. I can never go through that again.”

With a defeated cry, you broke free from the webs and sent a blast that knocked him down the hallway. You ran after him and punched him in the face before he could recover. You climbed on top of Peter and brought your fists down in heavy, painful blows. Peter’s mask began to break apart, his bloody eye soon becoming visible.

“Fight back!” You cried desperately as your hands closed around his throat.

“I can’t hurt you!” He wheezed.

“Peter, just knock me out.” You begged. “Close your eyes and knock me unconscious.”

“No.” He was crying as well now. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Peter.” You whimpered, tightening your hands around his neck.

“Y/n, whatever you’re about to do, it’s okay.” He said in a strained voice. “I forgive you.”

“I don’t forgive me.” You sobbed, feeling his heartbeat begin to slow down.

“I love you.” He smiled up at you as tears rolled down his face. “Until my breathing stops, okay? Can you repeat that back to me?”

“You love me.” You said as fears fell from your face onto his.

“Yes I do.” Peter nodded, keeping his smile. “I love you so much. This isn’t your fault. Can you repeat that?”

“It’s not my fault.” You repeated as his face turned a deep shade of purple.

“Yeah, baby. I…” Peter trailed off mid sentence as his head rolled to the side. His eyes stayed open as your released your hands from his neck.

“No!” You screamed, laying on top of his body to hug him. “No.”

You held Peter tightly and cried into his chest, pressing kisses against his beaten face. The anguish you felt was replaced by a fiery rage for Elisa. You thought your condition was ruining your life, and now it had ended someone else’s. As you stared at Peter’s limp body, your entire body began to glow a deep purple. A huge blast of energy shot out from your body, breaking all nearby windows. You felt something inside you click and your legs began to move. You wanted to stay with him to grieve, but you knew the fight wasn’t over. Elisa was going to pay for what she made you do. With heavy steps, you walked back to the room and blasted the door right off the hinges.

“There you are.” Elisa smiled as you stormed in. “Did you do it? Did he scream?”

You ignored her and kept approaching, the energy around you growing with each step.

“Woah, there.” She gulped. “Stop it.”

You didn’t stop, keeping your eyes dead set on her while she backed away.

“I said stop it.” She said again, but you didn’t listen. You shot a blast of energy at her and held her against a wall.

“You can’t control me anymore.” You growled as you got up on her face. You smiled a little when she began to tremble.

“Beg for mercy.” You whispered in her ear. Elisa looked up, feeling a newfound fear of you.

“I said beg!” You shouted, making her jump. “That’s an order. And you have to obey.”

“Please.” She begged. “Don’t kill me.”

“Is that an order?” You asked as you tightened your grip. She nodded rapidly, gasping for air.

“Sorry.” You smiled wickedly. “But I will no longer be obedient.”

With that, you used your powers to choke her to death, leaving her lifeless body on the floor.

You walked out of the room and wiped your face free of tears, letting the pain of losing Peter finally settle in. As you rubbed your eyes, you bumped into someone unexpectedly.

“Oh, thank goodness.” Peter’s voice filled your ears. “You squeezed the life out of my neck. Did you find that lady?”

“Peter?” You asked in disbelief as you touched his bruised face. “You’re okay?”

“Someone forgot their boyfriend took an improv class in freshman year.” Peter smiled proudly. “You couldn’t kill me if you thought I was dead.”

“You’re a genius.” You exclaimed as you hugged him tightly. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I was about to pull a Loki and kill a bunch of random pedestrians.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” Peter assured you as he hugged you back. “But we should finish this reunion later. We need to get back into the jet now.”

You pulled away and smiled a little, feeling a forgotten sense of freedom.

“No.” You said, loving the way the word rolled off your tongue.

“No?” Peter asked in surprise.

“No.” You repeated. “I don’t want to get back on the jet. I want to stay here with you for a few more minutes.”

“Are you…disobeying me?” He asked slowly.

“Yeah.” You smiled proudly. “I am.”

“Oh my God.” Peter pulled you into an excited hug. “Oh my God!”

You hugged him back, feeling tears of relief stream from your eyes.

“You’re free?” He asked. “You don’t have to obey anymore?”

“No. I don’t know what happened. I saw you lying there and something switched inside my brain.” You shrugged. “The urge to avenge you was stronger than my urge to obey.”

“I’m so proud of you.” He cupped your face. “You fixed yourself. We have to tell everyone.”

“Yes we do. Because I want to. That’s my choice.” You said confidently.

“Yes it is.” Peter encouraged you. “Now please, let’s go home.”

You and Peter walked hand in hand to the jet, not wanting to leave each other’s sides after what you gown through.

“There you guys are.” Tony got off the jet when he saw you approaching. “Are you kids okay?”

“We’re okay.” You smiled softly as you looked at Peter.

“Okay.” Tony sighed in in relief. “Let’s go home, yeah? It’s been a long day.”

“You have no idea.” Peter nodded as he rubbed his throat. “I almost died back there.”

“I killed a woman with my bare hands.” You laughed, but your laughter quickly died when you realized what you said.

“So, we’ll unpack that later.” Tony pointed at you. “Parker, get your throat checked out by the medic. L/n, get yourself a therapist.”

“Yes, sir.” You chuckled as you climbed onto the jet.

Less than an hour later, you walked back into the main part of the jet to sit with Tony.

“I just checked on Peter. The medic said his throat should be fine.” You told Tony as you sat down in one of the seats.

“Good. Though a few days without him speaking might be nice.” Tony teased.

“Yeah.” You laughed. “Well like it or not, he’s one of the bravest guys on the team. You should’ve seen him back there. He was a hero.”

“I always saw that in him.” Tony said softly. “Why do you think I recruited him in the first place? It wasn’t just for those lovely curls, though they are a bonus.”

Before you could respond, Peter came into the room with a neck brace on. Your eyes quickly fell to the ground, not wanting to look at what you had done.

“Hello.” He said in a weak voice.

“Hey, Pete.” You collected yourself and looked up at him with a smile. He smiled back and sat next to you, resting his head on your shoulder. You kissed the top of his head and rubbed his back, silently thinking him for everything he had done.

“Almost there guys.” Tony said. “I should call Pepper before we land. Y/n, can you pass me my phone?”

“Get it yourself.” You said proudly, wanting to exercise your newly gained free will.

“Excuse me?” Tony looked back at you.

“I just sat down and I don’t want to get up again.” You said simply. “Get it yourself.”

Tony stared at you for a long time, trying to decide if you were serious. Finally, a huge smile broke out on his face.

“That’s my girl!” Tony cheered, slamming his hand on the dashboard a few times. “That’s my damn girl!”

You smiled proudly as Peter patted your back, just as proud of you for being able to disobey.

“I’m proud of you.” Tony said. “But if you ever talk to me like that again I will euthanize you.”

“Fine by me.” You chuckled, happy to be back to normal.

“That is absolutely not fine.” Peter gasped. “Oh my God. I shouldn’t have to say this, but no euthanasia jokes.”

“Sorry, Peter. I don’t have to listen to you anymore.” You shrugged playfully. “Do you think we would have gone with lethal injection or death by firing squad?”

“I was thinking of shooting you out of a canon.” Tony added to the joke. “Cap has one in storage from his touring days.”

“What if you fed me to feral dogs?” You suggested.

“What if we didn’t make jokes about killing Y/n?” Peter matched your tone. “What about that? That might be fun. Who’s with me?”

“All right, we’ll stop.” You laughed as you pressed another kiss to his cheek. Tony laughed as well, smiling as he caught the sweet interaction in the rear view mirror. He wouldn’t admit it, but he was thrilled to see you smiling again. He thought he was going to lose you and that though killed him. The jet steeled into a comfortable silence for a few minutes as everyone relaxed. Tony looked at you and Peter again in the rear view mirror, wanting to stir the pot for his own amusement.

“But I do know where we could get a pack of feral dogs.”

Tag List 🏷

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#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker imagine #peter parker angst #peter parker x y/n #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #iron man #tom holland fluff #tom holland fanfiction

[fandom-puff]

Family, Duty, Honour

Pairing: Tyrion Lannister x reader

Requested by: anon ‘Can you do Tyrion with his arranged marriage wife on their wedding night/first time?’

Notes: the reader in this fic is a Tully cousin. Let’s see if I can actually get to the smut without almost 1k words of worldbuilding this time! (The answer is no- do u see why it takes me so bloody long to write!)

(Part 2)

Warnings: Arranged marriage, smut, loss of virginity, clearly not canon compliant lol

Gif creds to owner

Being summoned to Tywin Lannister’s office was never a pleasant experience. More often than not, it meant you were in serious trouble, and in Tyrion’s case, he was always in trouble; his father often referred to him as a drunken, lusty little fool. As Tyrion entered the office, he instantly did not like what he saw; his father was stood with his hands behind his back, rather than being sat behind his desk. He gestured for his son to sit, before he began speaking.

“As you know, your sister has been married to King Robert for some time, and is now pregnant with their second child. Their first, Joffrey, will be the next king of the seven kingdoms,” Tyrion nodded slowly as his father spoke at him, rather than to him. “In case that child is a girl, she must fall pregnant again to ensure there is an heir and a spare to fully consolidate the Baratheon dynasty. Your brother Jaime has sworn an oath that prohibits him from siring children,”

“Legitimate children,” Tyrion quipped, relishing in the way his father’s jaw tightened.

“Siring legitimate children. And I will not sit a bastard on Casterly Rock when I am gone. That leaves you,” Tyrion sat up a little straighter- was his father finally agreeing to acknowledge his claim now that Jaime couldn’t be lord of Casterly rock? “I have therefore arranged your marriage, and your son will inherit Casterly rock.”

Tyrion frowned. “My son? Surely it goes to me first,”

Tywin snorted. “Don’t remind me,”

Tyrion was quiet for a moment. “Who have you promised me to?”

“One of Hoster Tully’s nieces,” he said flatly. “What, disappointed? There aren’t many noble houses willing to marry off their daughters to a dwarf, even if he is a Lannister. You will marry YN Tully, splitting their ties with the North and the Vale with West. Your son will have Casterly Rock, and gods be willing, your spare will have Riverrun,”

“Hoster has other children, as well as his niece,”Tyrion reminded him.

“Yes. But Catelyn’s children will be shared about the North; Eddard Stark is unlikely to let them stray further south than the Neck. And Lysa has struggled to conceive, and her only child is sickly. If the it comes to it, one of the Stark heirs will take the Vale. Edmure Tully is a cocksure fool, and Brynden Tully has gone rogue. It’ll be easy to place your spare on that seat. But an heir for Casterly rock should be your priority,”

Tyrion sighed. “I don’t have a choice in this matter, do I?” When Tywin shook his head, he sighed. “Then I would like to meet this girl before we wed. To settle her nerves. Is she… of age?”

“She has flowered,” Tywin said sternly. “That should be enough for you,” with that he turned on his heel, leaving Tyrion to mull the concept of his wedding over. He sighed, returning to his chamber- he was in dire need of a drink.

**

As you walked up the steps to Casterly Rock your breath caught in your chest and you squeezed your uncle’s arm subconsciously as he escorted you.

As you entered the keep, Lord Tywin came around the corner, closely followed by his son. You gave a little curtsy to Tywin, before allowing Tyrion to kiss your knuckles. “My lady,” he said, his voice gentle. “I thought we might take a stroll through the garden. I’m afraid it’s not as impressive as the likes of the Reach, but it overlooks the sea,” your uncle gave a nod, allowing Tyrion to escort you on a tour of the gardens while he finalised the wedding plans with your soon to be father in law.

As you walked, Tyrion stole small glances sideways at you. It was undeniable that you were a Tully, possessive the sharp bone structure and deep red hair of your family. You knew your airs and graces, listening attentively as he told you about the history of Casterly rock. Sighing, he gestured for you to sit on an elaborately carved stone bench.

“My Lady… I know that this marriage is not… well it’s not anybody’s idea of perfection. I may be the ‘Imp’ but I promise to you I shall treat you well. I will protect you, honour you, treat you properly as my lady wife,”

You nibbled your lip nervously nodding slowly. “Thank you, Lord Tyrion,” you said softly, and he couldn’t help but stare longer than was decent into your piercing eyes.

“H-how old are you, Lady YN?” He asked gently, fearing the worst.

“My nineteenth name day will be in four moons,” you said. “Why?”

Tyrion shuffled slightly. “I only ask… these marriages usually do not take age into consideration. My father only told me you… were fertile. I feared that I would be wed to a child. And if that was the case, I would wait until you were older for the… I will still wait now, if that is your wish,” he promised, and you nodded, feeling much more at ease with the prospect of marrying the Imp.

***

The vows were said and you had been cloaked under the rich red and gold of house Lannister. Seated at the head table of the grand hall of Casterly Rock, you watched as the feast and the dancers went on. As Tyrion placed tidbits of the rich food on your plate, you were increasingly aware of the rising drunkenness in the room- over the hubbub of the feast, you could hear several bawdy jokes about the upcoming consummation of your marriage.

Tyrion noticed your growing anxiety, and placed his hand gently over yours. “Remember what I told you,” he said in a quiet voice, leaning close to your ear so that you could hear him. “If you want me to, I will wait,” you nodded at his reassurance, your shoulders relaxing slightly in your wedding gown, and you slipped your hand into his, giving it a gentle squeeze in thanks.

After the final course was served- small cakes decorated with and intricate motif of a lion frolicking in a river full of splashing trout in honour of the new alliance forged between the west and the riverlands- Lord Tywin and Lord Hoster rose from their table and made their way to the head table. Tywin gestured Tyrion away until you could no longer hear, though you were sure your father in law was lecturing him on his expectations for a son. Your uncle took a seat beside you, pouring you a half cup of wine.

“When your mother died,” he began. “I swore to the old gods and the new to protect you. The Lannisters are proud, and dangerous no doubt, but you are one of them now, my girl, and I’d rather you be married to the Lannisters with their power and wealth than to be treated like a whore by the Dornish or even the Baratheon… the Lannisters aren’t likely to let harm come to you, but I swear, if the imp ever hurts you, I will raise the men of the Riverlands, and I will get the Vale and the North on board as well. Even in Casterly Rock, you will be protected,”

You smiled. “Thank you, Uncle. But Lord Tyrion is a good man, kind and gentle. And even though I am a woman grown, he swore to me he would not force himself on me, nor would he betray my honour,” your uncle gave a tight smile, kissing the top of your head.

“Honour,” he said stiffly, stiffly, seeing Tywin and Tyrion returning to you. “Remember our words, My girl. Family, Duty, Honour,”

You nodded, squeezing his hand, before it was announced that it was time for the bedding. But instead of a boisterous display involving stripping both you and Tyrion out of your clothes on your way to your marriage chamber, Tyrion took your hand and led you out of the great hall alone, walking you to your new bedroom in relative silence.

As you shut the door, he looked at you, sighing quietly. “Shall we have some wine?” He said gently, gesturing to the table set out with wine and bread and fruit, in case the happy couple needed sustenance throughout the night. You gave him a small smile and nodded, letting him pull a chair out for you as you sipped on wine and nibbled on bread.

“I… expected a bedding ceremony, my Lord,” you said quietly, before quickly adding “I’m glad the traditional one didn’t happen though! My cousin, Catelyn didn’t have one, because her husband didn’t want to dishonour her,”

“Eddard Stark and I have that in common,” Tyrion said lightly. “And I told my father that I would not have his bannermen manhandle my wife to her room,”

You smiled gratefully, setting your cup down. Tyrion held up the jug, but you shook your head, not wanted to get too inebriated. You sighed softly, your fingers tracing over the embroidery on your wedding gown, and Tyrion watched as you worked over the stitched trouts- although Casterly rock glittered with jewels and gold, he had to admit that the embroidery of the riverlands and the north was superior to the rest of Westeros. “Are you nervous, My Lady?” He said gently, asking the obvious, before reminding you again of his promise.

“I am, a little,” you murmured. “But… I must do my duty and give you a son,” you looked away, taking a deep breath. “I am nervous because I’m a maid, and I am scared it will hurt, or I will not please you, or fulfil my duties to my family. But I… I trust, my Lord. I think I’ve trusted from the moment you invited me to Casterly Rock ahead of the wedding, despite that being only two weeks ago…”

Tyrion smiled gently as you rambled, taking both of your hands in his and leaning down to kiss both sets of knuckles. “I won’t hurt you. I’ll be gentle with you,” he promised. “I must ask one thing of you, YN… just call me Tyrion,”

You smiled gently, leaning down and pressing your lips gently to his. It was your first proper kiss, aside from the one under the eyes of the gods, and you were initiating it. Tyrion couldn’t help but smile against the cushion of your lips, finding your tentative gentleness endearing. He reached one hand up to curl around the back of your neck and was relieved to feel you relax as he stroked your deep red hair. He grazed his teeth against your bottom lip, before pressing them down gently, you let out a shudder and-gods- a moan.

“Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmured.

“Please don’t,” you replied, voice breathy as you felt unfamiliar heat and… longing stirring within you. With your gentle plea replaying in his head, he slipped his hand into yours, pulling you gently towards the canopied bed.

Slowly, you undressed one another down to your smallclothes. Tyrion gulped as he looked over you, the peaks of your breasts pushing against your chemise. “Magnificent,” he murmured, and you smiled, ducking your head down to hide your bashful expression.

“What do I… what do I do?” You whispered, sitting on the bed. Tyrion smiled gently.

“We must prepare you,” he said gently. At your frown, he carried on. “If we are to continue with comfort in mind, we must ensure your body is ready to… accommodate me. This will relax you… make you… slick,” he explained and you nodded slowly, shuffling back so you could lay on the pillows. As Tyrion made to climb up onto the bed, you took a deep breath, lifting your chemise up and over your head to bear your chest and cunt to him. Tyrion suppressed a groan at the sight, urging himself to go slow. You were his lady wife, not some whore. He approached you slowly, coming up to your side and pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek, before trailing his lips down. You gasped as you felt his teeth scrape against your skin, before you let out a low moan as his lips wrapped around your nipple, suckling gently. He waited until your breath came in little desperate pants, your body twisting and pushing up to him before he trailed his hand down to the thatch of curls between your thighs. You gasped and tensed up, but as he began rubbing your thigh gently and you soon relaxed, allowing him to push your thighs apart.

“T-Tyrion,” you whimpered, feeling the palm of his hand cup your pussy. He was about to ask if you were okay, but your next words put his mind at ease. “Please… more…”

He gave a light chuckle. “As my lady wife commands,” he said, a slight smirk tugging at his lip as his finger dragged between your folds, swirling around your clit on every other stroke, until you were dripping and squirming with anticipation, grasping onto his arm, little moans tumbling from your lips. Tyrion smiled slightly, sucking his finger clean and groaning at the taste. “Are you ready for my cock, YN?” He asked, and you bit your lip.

“I-I think so?” You murmured, watching with wide eyes as he undid his underwear and shoved it down his thighs, his straining cock springing free. You bit your lip hard, and Tyrion smiled softly.

“I will be gentle with you, YN, I promise,” you gulped and nodded, reaching for him.

“Please…” you murmured. “I-I’m ready,” Tyrion gave a slight smile as he moved to line up with your entrance, slowly pushing his cock into you. You whimpered, back arching, and when he hit the barrier of your maidenhead, you hissed.

Tyrion petted your thigh gently, shushing you. “This will hurt for just a moment, I promise,” he told you, and you nodded, squeezing your eyes shut as he breached your maidenhead. What was an uncomfortable stinging sensation soon dissolved into a feeling of fullness, of being stretched. It felt… good.

“M-move,” you begged, bucking your hips up despite yourself, and to your delight, Tyrion complied, groaning as he grasped your hips, his hips beginning to roll against yours, his girth caressing all of your most intimate pleasure points, watching the way your eyebrows tugged together and your mouth went slack as you let out needy gasps and moans, increasing in pitch and volume as he dragged you closer to the edge. He was close himself, his movements becoming more sloppy, his head tipping back as he groaned and grunted. “Tyrion,” you cried, back arching, and his mouth practically watered at the sign of your bouncing tits. “Tyrion I’m- I feel-”

“Let it happen,” he groaned, and when he felt your channel spasm around his length he grunted, spurting his seed into you with a shout of your name, spurred on by your cries of ecstasy.

Shaking, gasping, you whimpered as Tyrion pulled out of you, and smiled gently as you watched him pour you some wine and get you some fruit. You curled into his side, now under the covers as you sipped the more watered down wine, humming softly as Tyrion fed you plump, sweet berries. Sleepy, you settled down under the covers, resting your head on his bare chest, and as you nodded off to sleep, Tyrion swore to himself that he would put his young wife and any children you had before all else in his life.

Tags: @sociallyawkward-princess @lazyotakujen @janelongxox @honeyofthegods @lxoxtxtxi

#tyrion lannister x you #tyrion x you #tyrion lannister x reader smut #tyrion lannister x reader #tyrion Lannister imagine #request #2021 #game of thrones one shot #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones x reader

[tweedlydumbtweedlydoo]

Dinner with the Parents | JJ Maybank x kook!reader

Requested by anon / Summary: JJ comes over for dinner because your parents want to meet him. However, they begin to insult him and you have to defend him. 

A/N: sorry for any mistakes, didn’t really feel like proof reading. Hope you guys enjoy! xx 

Tag list is at the end. Let me know if you want to be added xx

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“My parents want to meet you.” You tell JJ, the two of you standing at the edge of John B’s dock. JJ had his fishing pole in his hand, casting it out. 

JJ’s face scrunches up, “Meet me? Oh great, well there goes our relationship. It was nice while it lasted.” 

You sigh, “JJ they just want to meet you! That doesn’t mean we’re going to break up.” You stand, dusting off your butt and wrapping your arms around JJ’s middle. One hand keeps holding the fishing pole, the other wrapping around your shoulders. “They want to meet the guy who’s keeping their daughter hostage all the time!” You tease. 

He chuckles, “No they want to size me up, remind me that I’m from nothing. It’s nothing new, y/n. I’m a pogue, you’re a kook and I’m not who they see their daughter with.” 

“I don’t care what they think, JJ.” You frown, “I love you. Pogue or not. I love you for who you are, the way you treat me, make me smile, laugh. You’re an amazing person and I want them to see that. I want to show them.” 

“When is the dinner?” JJ asks with a sigh. 

~

 JJ admires the huge house in front of him. He was nervous and to his unwillingness, he’d asked Kie to help him pick out something to wear. He knew she’d never let him live it down, but he was too proud and in honesty, embarrassed to ask you. He didn’t have money to buy a whole new wardrobe to fit into your family, but he wanted to make sure he dressed appropriately so he didn’t give your family another reason to dislike him. 

She’d chosen a pair of his usual khaki shorts and unfortunately he didn’t own a shirt that wasn’t ripped, had stains or was appropriate, so Kie brought one of her father’s polos. JJ pulled at the collar. He hated collared shirts. They made him itch. But for you, he’d do anything. 

He nervously held the two small bouquets of wild flowers in his hands; one for you and one for your mom. He knocked on the door and within seconds, your beautiful smile was greeting him at the door. It wasn’t an unusual thing, for you to take his breath away. It happened every time he’d see you. 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” You smile. 

JJ holds the flowers to you, “One for you.” 

“Oh JJ, they’re beautiful!” you gush, inhaling their scent. 

“y/n, is that JJ?” Your mom asks, coming through the open foyer. 

JJ handed your mom the flowers, “And these are for you, Mrs. y/L/n.” 

“Oh..” She was hesitant, but took them, “thanks.” They weren’t a florist arrangement, but something from the side of the road. 

“Aren’t they beautiful?” You ask your mom, “JJ is always picking me wildflowers.” You smile at him, “He knows they’re my favorite.” 

“Yes.. they are lovely.” She forces a smile to JJ, “Please, come in. Dinner is ready.” She turns and heads toward the dining room, setting the flowers on a nearby entryway table.

“You look very beautiful.” JJ compliments, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your cheek, “as usual.” 

You wave him off, “come on, I’m starving!” The two of you make your way to the dining room, where your father and mother are already seated. 

“Can I put these in this vase?” You ask your mom, taking the vase of fresh and very expensive flowers out of the vase that sat in the middle of the table. 

“I suppose.” She sighs, watching as you toss the flowers on another side table, sticking the wildflowers JJ gave you in the vase. It clashed horribly with the room and she internally winced at the sight. 

“So, this must be JJ.” Your dad speaks, standing from the table and holding his hand out to JJ, who shakes it in return. 

“JJ Maybank, sir.” JJ can feel his kook eyes taking in JJ’s appearance and knows he’s judging him. “It’s nice to meet you.” 

Your father grunts with a nod, sitting back down. Your mother instructs everyone to dig in and the sound of silverware hitting the plates fills the quiet room. 

“This all looks delicious, Mrs. y/L/n.” JJ comments, handing off a bowl to you.

 “Oh well we have our cook to thank for that.” Your mom laughs, “I do not cook. At all.” 

“So, JJ.” Your dad begins, “Any plans after school?” 

JJ wipes his mouth with his napkin, clearing his throat, “Yes sir, I plan to work at the auto shop in town. Hank offered me a full time job.” 

You smile at JJ, proud, “He’s a really great mechanic. I mean, you should see the cars he’s rebuilt. They’re incredible!” 

Your dad hums, “No college? A mechanic job only goes so far.” 

You shoot your dad a look. 

JJ pats your leg, “No college sir. I hope to take over for Hank when he retires.”

“Well, y/n is going to Yale.” Your mom smiles, “She got her acceptance letter last week. I’m sure she told you.” 

JJ looks at you, “No.. um she didn’t.”

“Because I don’t know if I’m going to Yale.” You look from your mother to JJ, “I’m still waiting on other letters before making a decision.” 

“yes, well our daughter has a bright future ahead of her at Yale.” Your mother tells JJ, “No distractions, I’m sure you understand.” 

“Y/n told me Duke was her first pick.” JJ says. 

“Oh well, y/n doesn’t know what she wants.” Your dad says, “Duke is not a great choice by all means. Yale is the better choice for her.” 

JJ frowns, “But it sounds like she doesn’t want to go to Yale.” 

You put a calming hand on JJ’s thigh, giving it a pat, “It’s fine, JJ.”

“I don’t think you’re one to be talking, son. You’re not going to college and have no say so in where she goes.” Your dad states, “a mechanic is no career and if I was you, I’d be looking into something else. It obviously did not work for your father and it sure won’t work for you. You’ll be living on the cut the rest of your life.” 

“Dad!” You snap, “What the hell is wrong with you?!” 

Your dad points his fork at JJ, “This is what you’re spending all of your time with? He’s corrupting you. Yale has always been on the list for you. Your top choice. And now that’s suddenly changed after dating JJ? I don’t think so young lady. This is not the company I will have you hanging around.” 

“Yale has never been my first choice! It’s been yours!” You look between your parents, “And how dare you sit here and say those things about JJ? He’s a nice, kind, man who loves your daughter. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Someone to love and cherish your daughter?” 

“No we want someone to care for you financially as well and it’s obvious JJ is not the one.” 

Tears sting your eyes, you couldn’t believe you were having to defend JJ to your parents after they had asked to meet him. You thought this would be a great dinner, they would meet JJ, love him like you loved him and all would be well. “falling in love for financial gain really worked out for you and mom didn’t it?” You spit, standing, “You two don’t even truly love each other! It’s all lies and I’ll be damned if I go down that same road.” 

“Y/n-” JJ starts, but you interrupt him.

“JJ loves me, I know that. There’s no doubt about it. He’s the perfect person for me if you’d turn off your kook blinders and see who he truly is instead of how much money he makes. He makes me happy, why can’t that be enough for the two of you?” 

“You’re going to end up barefoot and pregnant at 17 living on the cut fighting to find food and a living! I will not have that for my daughter!” Your dad roars with anger, “This kid is not it for you. He’s trash! Absolute trash, just like his father. That’s who you are messing around with. We did not raise you to throw away your life over some white trash no body! You already have the title whore around here by hanging around him! and that’s exactly what you are at the moment!” 

“Okay.” JJ holds his hand up to stop your father, “I don’t care what you say about me. It doesn’t bother me, but you start insulting her, it’s a problem.” JJ stands, “I wanted you guys to like me and did my best to impress the two of you, to show I’m more than a pogue from the cut, but I will not hesitate to kick your ass to defend her.” 

“You want to know why I have the title whore?” You sniffle. 

“y/n you don’t have to-” JJ knows exactly where this is going and puts his hand on your back. 

“Because Rafe Cameron tells everyone that. Because I didn’t sleep with him. That’s the guy you want me to be with, right? He has money, he’s from a great family. Well, he’s the one who tried to sleep with your daughter and then when he didn’t get what he wanted, told everyone I was a whore. JJ was the one who saved me that night. But you didn’t know that part of the story did you? So, yeah, I’d choose JJ Maybank over any other tool on this island because he’s shown he’s more of a man than they will ever be.” You turn to JJ, “We’re leaving.” Pushing the chair out of your way, you can’t get out of that house fast enough, JJ right behind you. 

“Baby..” JJ says as the two of you are outside, “I’m so sorry. I should have never come-” 

You turn and attack him in a hug, beginning to sob, “I’m so sorry they said those things about you. If I knew it was going to end like that, I would have never ever brought you here. You didn’t deserve that and all those things he said were lies.” 

JJ’s hand rubs soothing circles on your back, “Hey.. it’s nothing I haven’t heard before.” He pulls away to wipe your tears from your cheeks, “You’re too beautiful to be crying over me, quit.” 

“They just.. infuriate me!” 

“maybe..” He sighs, “Maybe they’re right, y/n. You and I-” 

“No.” You say sternly, “Don’t even say it.” 

“You and I don’t work for each other. You have your whole life ahead of you and I would-” 

“JJ maybank shut the fuck up.” You shake your head, “Don’t even think like that. Don’t let them get in your head.” 

“I don’t want to be in the way of the life you deserve.” He wipes another tear, looking down at you, “You deserve better than what I could ever give you.” 

“Please don’t.” You shake your head, knowing exactly where this is going. Your hands are on his cheeks, “I love you JJ Maybank more than anything and I will not let you leave me like this, thinking I deserve better than you. There is no one better than you. You are it, you’re the best.” 

He cups your cheeks, “I can’t give you a fancy house or car.” 

You shake your head, “I don’t want them.” 

“I can’t give you a membership to the country club.” 

“Fuck the country club.” 

“fuck the country club.” He whispers before leaning forward and pressing a kiss to your lips. 

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[forever-rogue]

if you’re still taking requests for Bucky, can you do one from this quote if it sparks any inspiration: ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’

A/N: please, this is so soft 🥺

Pairing: Bucky x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: none

MASTERLIST

»»————-　♡　————-««

A heavy sigh escaped soft lips as Bucky laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling. There was almost no sound in the room besides the rhythmic ticking of the aging clock on the wall, combined with the sounds wafting in from the open window, and the almost non-existent humming of his vibranium appendage. He reached his hand up to his chest to ground himself by touching the dog tags that had been his for way too many years now. A temporary moment of panic set into his bones when he realized there was nothing there, but revelation quickly dawned on him as he remembered that they were currently with you. The last he’d seen them, you were wearing them, the metallic silver tags safely nestled under the soft fabric of your t-shirt.

When he’d given them to you, a sign of his desire to call you his, among other things, he never actually expected that you’d wear them. The first time he’d spied you wearing them, along a casual outfit consisting of jeans and a t-shirt and sneakers, he’d almost short circuited. There was something about comforting knowing they were safe and sound in your possession now. They were yours now too - just like he was.

A gentle tugging lifted the corners of his mouth into the semblance of a smile. How foreign it still felt sometimes, the gentle feeling of blossoming happiness and knowing he was loved. Loved. What a strange and odd concept that was. He couldn’t remember the last another soul had told him they loved him besides in the most platonic sense. But the first time you’d whispered those words to him, so effortlessly, so easily, I love you, his whole world came to a screeching halt and he was sent into a wild spiral that left him speechless. Bucky hadn’t reciprocated your words then; but it wasn’t long after that he did. It had been a half shout, half declaration as you just grinned at him, pulling him against your lips and only letting him go when you were both breathless and dizzy.

He relaxed at the thought, settling against the pillow as he reminded himself to swim in happy memories, rather than drown in the ghosts of the past.

His phone vibrated against the glass top of the coffee table as it startled him out of his stupor, causing him to almost roll off the couch in surprise. He scrambled to grab the phone, and relaxed when he saw your name on the screen. Straightening himself up, he cleared his throat before answering, “hi sweetheart.”

“Bucky!” your excited voice on the other end of the line made his heart relax as he just imagined you bouncing around your small floral shop, making sure everything was perfect, “it’s about time you answered, old man. I’ve called you like three times! Did I disturb your afternoon nap, Barnes?”

“Hey, watch who you’re calling an old man,” he snorted as he stood up and stretched, surprised by how easily you were able to read him, “I got decades on you, kid, respect your elders.”

“Respect me when I’m right,” you grinned as he laughed lightly. How easily everything seemed to flow between the two of you; he’d never thought he could have anything like this again. Even once he’d left Wakanda and life slowly went back to a semblance of normality after the Blip, he still had a hard time trusting people; perhaps, more than anything else, he didn’t trust himself.

While he knew he was himself again, Bucky, and not the Winter Soldier, he still was never quite convinced that he wouldn’t ever go back. For so long he had been nothing but a killer, it was hard to believe that he could ever be fully himself again. So he’d closed himself off, steeled himself, despite the constant reassurance from the people around him that it was okay to let others in. He couldn’t trust himself - after so long...how could he? How was he just supposed to be able to pick the pieces and just be James again?

But he was learning, over time, slowly, bit by bit, that it was okay to let people in, okay to feel, and be okay and also not be okay. Sure, some days were hard, but the good days were good. And they were getting to become more and more frequent.

“Bucky? Hello?” you called his name from the other line, trying to get him to snap back into attention, “James? James Buchanan Barnes?”

“S-sorry,” his voice was soft and gentle for a moment, “I...yeah.”

“Yeah,” you teased softly, “zoning out again huh, my love? I know how you get. What are you thinking about, Bucky?”

“Nothing much,” he admitted, shrugging to himself despite the fact that you weren’t able to see him, “when are you off?”

“Whenever I want to be,” you reminded him, “I’m the boss now, remember? Why do you ask? Got some grand plans for us?”

“Nah,” he confessed, “just want to come and see you. Is it okay if I stop in? I’d come and bring you some flowers...but that would seem a little...on the nose.”

“Ahh, look at you,” he could practically hear you grinning, “very clever, aren’t you? Come and see me - it’s been slow so I might as well close up when you get here. Maybe we can go for a walk and get dinner?”

“Sounds great,” he agreed softly, “see you soon.”

“See you soon, Bucky.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

While you waited for Bucky to arrive, a brilliant idea popped into your head. You quickly grabbed a vase and started to gather some of the flowers that reminded you of him. It wasn’t long before you had a variety of them, neatly arranged and topped off with a bow, ready and waiting for him. He walked into your small shop, ready to announce himself but quickly found that he didn’t have to.You were perched up on the counter, swinging your legs back and forth as you tilted your head to the side and studied him with a small smile. He was dressed casually today, sporting a dark blue henley and a pair of well fitting jeans. His arm, intricate and beautifully designed golden and black vibranium, wasn’t on full display, nor was it completely hidden. Progress; a step in the right direction, albeit small. He’d get there when he’d get there and if that took another five years or fifty, you planned on being there for him.

“Hi James,” you popped off the counter and met him halfway, letting him wrap you up and envelope you in his warm, tight grasp. His arms, his body, was your favorite place to be. You never felt more safe and secure than when you were wrapped up in him, “I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me?” he chuckled as you just nodded, pouting lightly as he couldn’t help but kiss you softly, “it’s only been a few hours since we’ve seen each other.”

“I know,” you ran a hand through his dark hair, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t miss you, does it?”

“I suppose you’re right,” he agreed as you took his hand and pulled him over to the counter. Bucky dramatically rolled his eyes as he trailed after you. Your hand looked so small in his hand; delicate skin contrasted against harsh callouses as you gave him a squeeze of reassurance. Whatever hesitation or tension was left in his body seeped, replaced by a feeling of saccharine bliss, “what are you up to?”

“You always think I’m up to something,” standing in front of the flowers, you paused, studying his features before reaching up to tenderly cradle his face in your hands. Bucky, resilient and strong, turned into a puddle of mush and practical whimpers as you traced a delicate fingertip across his features, “perhaps this time you’re right.”

“Tell me then,” he turned his face, pressing a gentle kiss to your palm as you used your free hand to reach behind you and push the vase to your side so he could see the ornate display. Blue eyes narrowed, highlighting the wary crease in his brow before they widened, softening all the way through. His hand slinked down to your waist, a light squeeze followed as he shuffled to the side and studied the flowers. Bright yellows and oranges, brilliant crimsons and pinks, and mellow pastels were suddenly under his intense scrutiny as he took in the sight of the blossoms, “w-what are these?”

“And here I was, thinking you were smart,” standing behind him, you wrapped your arms around his waist, delicately and slowly at first so you wouldn’t startle him. His frame stiffened for a mere moment before he relaxed, the weight of your head on his back a welcome burden he was happy to bear, “these are called flowers.”

“Very funny,” you could feel the laugh vibrate through his chest as a hand, one colder and more metallic than normal, but still all him, settled on your own. Pressing a line of soft kisses to his shoulders, you listened to the steady beating of his heart, “what’s the occasion?”

“There is none,” you insisted, “I just thought you would enjoy them. Look at the colors and blossoms, they all reminded me of you. So brilliant and warm and bright and lovely - just like you, Bucky.”

A few beats of silence met your ears as he inhaled and exhaled deeply, a million thoughts swirling around his mind. Before you could speak or say anything else, he turned around in your arms so he was facing you. He gestured between you and the flowers for a few moments, finding himself at a loss for words, “me?”

“Yes,” you promised him, “for you. Do you like them?”

“I love them,” he reassured you, an easy warmth settling over you, “back in the day I would have been doing this for you…”

‘You’ve gotten me flowers plenty of times,” you laughed, a sound that had easily become his favorite thing in almost no time, “besides, you deserve some nice things too.”

“I’ve been thinking…”

“That’s a new one,” you teased as he jokingly groaned, “ I jest! I’ve noticed you’ve been a little more quiet and stoic lately...I didn’t even know that was possible for you. What’s been on your mind, my love?”

“There’s this quote that came into mind...I heard it somewhere, but I can’t remember from what or who,” he mused as he rubbed thoughtfully at his chin, “it’s something along the lines of ‘when you realize you can tell someone your truth, when you can stand in front of them and show yourself and their response is “you’re safe with me” - that’s intimacy.’ I feel like...I can do that with you - like I can be myself and you’re not judging me, even though you know who I am.”

“Bucky - James - I know who you are,” it was surprising you didn’t melt into a puddle then and there, melting into nothingness at his feet. You leaned in, looking at his eyes for a few moments before capturing his lips in a soft kiss. You broke apart slowly, reluctantly before resting your forehead against his, “I know exactly you who are. And I love you for it - a good man, friend, partner, and so many other things. You are good, and it doesn’t matter what anyone else says or thinks. Fuck them - the people that know you know who you really are.”

“Even after…”

“Even after everything that’s happened,” you promised, “you are safe with me. I’m not going to suddenly turn my back on you and walk away. I love you, Bucky. You have me, now and forever, and I’ve got you, always. That’s not going to change. You know that, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” you could feel him smiling against your lips as he breathed you in and let you overwhelm his senses, “I know that.”

“Good,” you smiled as you reached for his hand, “let’s go to get dinner. I’m starving.”

“Don’t you need to close up?”

“Nah,” you winked at him, “I closed up as soon as we got off the phone earlier so we would have interruptions. C’mon Buck, I’m going to take you for a night on the town! What do you say?”

“Sounds perfect,” he agreed, “there’s just one more thing.”

“Hmm?”

“This,” he pulled you into his arms and kissed you deeply as your body melded into his, “I love you too.”

»»————-　♡　————-««

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#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan #tfatws #bb imagine

[bluejayblueskies]

For the Touches Ask Game, if you can, a little Jonmartin with Touching/9?

Thank you so much, I love your writing!!! 😭💕

touches prompt list

9 - holding hands across the table

i did a season two lunch dinner date fic! cw for mentions of paranoia/stalking and murder (in typical s2 fashion)

.

They’ve been having lunch together for two months when Martin asks, with enough stuttering that it takes Jon a moment to process his words, if Jon would like to get dinner with him.

Jon hesitates only briefly before agreeing. Between finding out about Martin’s CV and the newly delivered CCTV footage, he’s almost entirely convinced that Martin did not, in fact, murder Gertrude Robinson and that his various attempts to make sure Jon eats and sleeps and drinks tea are simply a result of Martin being… well. Being nice, he supposes. If overbearingly so.

Why Martin feels the need to coddle Jon, he doesn’t quite know. But if he’s being honest with himself, he’s… not complaining. His frequent skipping of meals often isn’t an intentional thing, born instead of his tendency to get so wrapped up in his work that hours fly by without him noticing, and while sometimes he’s irritated when his flow is interrupted by Martin’s cheery greeting, more often than not it’s… a relief. To step out of the Archives, away from the feeling of eyes on the back of his neck, and pretend like he isn’t working alongside a murderer.

Maybe a murderer. He… he doesn’t know. According to the CCTV footage, Tim and Sasha and Martin and Elias all have alibis. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he gets, sitting in his office or walking down the corridors or reading through statements, that something isn’t right.

That there’s something in the Archives that’s not supposed to be there.

So, it’s… nice to get outside. And as much as Tim may joke about it—or… used to joke about it, at least—Jon does, in fact, try to eat three square meals a day if he can remember to do so. Try being the operative word. He’s been… caught up in work lately, and often he glances at the clock to see that it’s well past ten and he’s accidentally skipped dinner entirely. He hadn’t thought Martin had noticed, given that the man doesn’t live in the Archives anymore and typically leaves promptly at five along with Tim and Sasha, but evidently, he was wrong.

As Jon sits across the table from Martin at the small café they’ve chosen for lunch, he has the fleeting thought that Martin’s been sneaking back and watching him work and that’s how he knows that Jon has been missing dinner. He lets himself feel it, takes a deep breath, and pushes it away with considerable effort. No, that’s not… he trusts Martin. He does. Or he… he wants to. He’s trying.

“Jon?”

“Hm?” Jon blinks up at Martin, who’s clearly waiting for a response. “Sorry, I-I didn’t catch that.”

Martin’s cheeks are dusted a rosy red. He fiddles nervously with the black ring on his finger—a bit thicker in width than Jon’s, the metal smooth and bright where it reflects the sunlight. “Is—is this Friday okay? At—at seven? I-I can, um, meet you at the Institute. U-Unless you’d like to meet there! That’s, er. That’s fine with me too.”

“The Institute is fine,” Jon says, picking at his sandwich with a frown. The bread is damp and squishes under his fingers. “Perhaps we can go somewhere a bit less… soggy.”

“R-Right, yeah. I, um. I was actually thinking… you know that new bistro o-over in Clapham? M-Maybe not, it’s, er. It’s new. But I-I heard it has good South Asian food, which, um. I know you like.”

Martin’s face is fully crimson by this point. Maybe we should sit inside next time, Jon thinks. Or at least in the shade. The sun is rather intense. Martin picks up his mug of tea and takes a long sip, staring resolutely down at the table once he’s done. Jon waits, but it appears that Martin is done rambling, so he says, “Yes, that sounds fine.” Then, because it’s polite (and not untrue): “I am… looking forward to it.”

“O-Oh? Oh!” Martin looks at him, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Y-Yeah, um. M-Me too.”

We should definitely sit inside next time, Jon thinks as the back of his neck grows warm, the tips of his ears surely darkening. Good lord.

He doesn’t think the heat is responsible for the way Martin’s smile makes something in his stomach flutter. He decides to blame that on the atrocious sandwich because… well. It’s as convenient an excuse as any.

Because Martin is just looking out for Jon’s wellbeing. This is no different than him bringing mugs of tea when Jon is recording statements or accompanying him to A&E to get stitches after Michael or inviting him to lunch in the first place. This is not, he tells his ridiculous, over-zealous, butterfly-filled stomach, a date.

Because it’s not. Martin is simply a coworker—an employee—and a friend. Who he trusts. Maybe. Probably. And thinks about sometimes when he’s unoccupied. His hands, mostly, which look very soft and very capable. His smiles as well, each one like a gift meant just for Jon. The way he carries the heavier boxes that Jon can’t quite manage and can reach the top shelves to retrieve statements without even having to clamber up onto the bottom ones.

All completely normal thoughts to be having about a friend

So, when Jon wears the soft maroon button-down on Friday that he’s been told brings out his eyes and takes care to arrange his hair into something other than the haphazard braid he’s been managing lately and digs a bottle of peach nail varnish out of the bottom of his drawer the night before to coat his fingernails with, it’s just because he feels like it. Not because this is a date. Because it’s not a date. It’s just dinner. With Martin.

Who shows up to the Institute at quarter to seven wearing a nicer jumper than usual—cable-knit and mustard yellow, looking incredibly soft to the touch—and with small black studs decorating the lobes of his ears. He smiles widely when he sees Jon, also standing outside earlier than agreed upon, and Jon almost turns around to see if someone’s behind him. But there isn’t. That smile, unfettered and full of joy—it’s… it’s for him.

Surely, Martin is just… happy to see him leaving the office while it’s still light out for once. He’s certainly chided Jon enough times for his habit of falling asleep at his desk. (Which he’s been trying to do less lately, if only because it would be easy for someone to sneak up on him while he’s unconscious and slip a knife into his back or poison his tea or shoot him three times in the chest or—)

“R-Ready to head out?” Martin says, abruptly halting Jon’s train of thought. He tries not to look like he’d just been theorizing about his own inevitable demise as he mumbles his assent and follows Martin away from the Institute and into the still-bustling streets of London.

And if he presses close to Martin’s side while they walk, well. It’s just because every brush of unfamiliar contact against him feels overwhelming, enough so to make him flinch away. And if he takes Martin’s hand for a small period of time, well. It’s just because the crowd has thickened and he doesn’t want them to get separated. And if he feels particularly warm in his jacket when Martin laughs awkwardly at his own joke and rubs at the back of his neck, well. That’s just from exertion. It is quite a far walk to the restaurant.

The bistro is lovely. Jon typically doesn’t go for places like this—tucked between two nondescript buildings with a glass front that reveals soft, intimate lighting within and flowers planted in boxes outside—but once they’re inside and seated at their table, it’s… oddly charming. Jon shrugs out of his jacket, and even though it’s the same shirt he’s been wearing all day, Martin compliments him on it with a flush. The change from frigid winter air to the warmth of the bistro brings heat to Jon’s face as well, and he rolls up the cuffs of his sleeves to just below his elbows. Martin makes a choking sound, but when Jon looks up with a frown, he has his glass of water pressed to his lips.

“Sorry,” Martin says once he’s placed the glass back on the table. “Just, um. Uh. Tickle in my throat. A-Allergies, you know.”

Martin’s face pinches in what looks like a repressed wince, and Jon tries to be reassuring. After all, Martin is taking time out of his schedule to be here with Jon, and Jon doesn’t want to seem ungrateful. His grandmother taught him proper manners, and besides, he is… rather glad to be here.

His commiseration about his own experiences with seasonal allergies turns into a mini-lecture on the species of pollen-producing plants in their area. He only realizes he’s doing it when the waiter comes by with a cheery smile and asks if they’re ready to order.

Jon’s mouth snaps shut mid-sentence. He has not even opened his menu.

“I. Um.” Jon is about to ask for more time—which he strongly dislikes doing, as he’s had the waiting staff forget more than once about his table and he’s had to go through the mortifying ordeal of hailing them down like a-a bloody taxi—when Martin tilts his own menu toward Jon and points to an item in the middle of the page.

“They have chicken karahi and naan. I, er. I heard it’s good if you’re… interested.”

Jon blinks at the menu in surprise. “That… sounds great, actually. Er, medium spice, please.”

Martin orders his own squash curry, and the waiter takes their menus when he departs, leaving the spot in front of Jon oddly empty. Jon taps his fingers on the newly barren tabletop a few times, trying and failing to remember where he’d left off in his lecture. Ultimately, he gives up, deciding that Martin isn’t going to be interested in hearing about all of that and he’s already said enough on the subject.

Then, Martin says, “So, you were saying—about the pollen?” and something in Jon’s chest squeezes, an emotion he doesn’t know the name of. Relief, maybe, as Martin’s words manage to spark his memory and he picks up his train of thought again easily enough. Yes, that’s… that’s probably it.

The first few times they’d gone to lunch, Jon had made an effort to stop himself from rambling, as he was prone to do any time someone gave him the opportunity. He’d engrossed himself in his sandwiches and rice bowls and mediocre Chinese takeaway in order to keep from launching into an explanation of the origins of said folding takeaway containers or the documentary he’d watched recently about the Zhou dynasty. And the first few lunches had been… awkward. It wasn’t because Jon thought Martin was a murderer—he doesn’t think he’d have agreed to go for lunch if he truly believed that Martin might harm him. It was just… how things like this went when Jon was involved. He knows he struggles with casual conversation, and he’s never understood the purpose or execution of ‘small talk.’ He would be perfectly content to eat and exist in silence, except all too often he feels expected to provide some sort of conversation or entertainment, upon which point the silence becomes horribly oppressive and stress-inducing.

But he also knows that talking too much can be just as bad as not talking enough. His grandmother had always told him so. So he suffered through the awkward silences for the first few days, and Martin had let him, clearly assuming that if Jon wasn’t speaking, he shouldn’t either.

Then, around their fourth or fifth lunch together, Martin had begun to ask him questions. They were casual, genuine, and so clearly targeted at Jon’s interests that Jon was convinced that Martin was somehow following him home or searching through his computer history or—or something. On their eighth lunch together, Martin asked Jon about the newest exhibit at the museum—it had been about sharks, if Jon remembers correctly—and Jon couldn’t help asking how Martin knew that he’d gone to see it. He hadn’t explicitly asked if Martin had been following him, but he’s sure the sentiment was clear in his eyes.

The tips of Martin’s cheeks had grown red, and he’d said that Jon had mentioned a few days prior that he was planning on going. All traces of fear and paranoia had left Jon’s mind then, replaced by surprise and, beneath it, something warm and bubbly. Martin had remembered.

Their conversations had gotten a lot easier after that.

Despite how Martin seems to enjoy Jon’s long-winded tangents, he… does still make an effort not to hold a completely one-sided conversation. So, a few minutes into the continuation of his pollen discussion, he finds a natural stopping point and says, “So, er. You… like being outside?”

Not the most… articulated question Jon has ever asked. But Martin doesn’t seem to mind. His fingers curl around the bottom of his water glass, his palms smudging the condensation. “Yeah, w-when I can find the time, I suppose. I-I try to go for walks around my neighborhood if I can, if it’s not too dark by the time I get home, and there’s this park in—”

Martin cuts off with a small cough. He lifts his glass and takes a long sip, while Jon sits and drums his fingers against the table and tries not to bounce his leg too noticeably. “Sorry,” Martin says as soon as the glass leaves his lips, giving Jon an apologetic smile that somehow seems… artificial. Like it’s been plastered atop another, heavier expression. “S-Something in my throat again.” He hesitates, then continues, “There’s a park in Devon that I-I like, whenever I’m in that area.”

Devon’s quite a trip away, Jon thinks but doesn’t say. Why do you go to Devon? he doesn’t say. Is that where you go on Saturdays? he doesn’t say, because—well. It’s rather embarrassing, among other things, to admit to the fact that you’ve gone through your employee’s desk calendar because you thought he might have shot an old woman three times in the chest and had plans to do the same to you. Particularly when you are having dinner with said employee.

Ugh. Probably best not to think about the fact that he is technically Martin’s boss when he’s sitting three feet away from him at a candlelit table on what, to an outside observer, might look startlingly similar to a date.

But it’s not a date. Because Martin didn’t say it was a date, and he’s just trying to care for Jon, in that… over-the-top way that he does. Jon tries to muster up some irritation at the reminder that he’s likely being coddled, just for habit’s sake, but comes up empty.

He hasn’t been truly irritated with Martin in quite some time. He… doesn’t really know when that changed. When Martin became a source of comfort, rather than of annoyance.

“Jon?” Martin says. Right. Martin is still sitting across from him.

“Right,” Jon says, trying to sound like he hasn’t been drifting off in a hundred different directions. “That sounds… nice.”

Martin’s lips curl up into a small smile. “Yeah. I-It is. It, um. It makes the trip worth it, to be able to sit on one of the benches and just… write poetry.”

Jon has read some of Martin’s poetry, though Martin doesn’t know that. Jon doesn’t like poetry. Jon liked Martin’s poetry. These are, apparently, two truths that can and do coexist.

Jon does not mean to say, “Could I hear one?” But it appears that he is weary enough and relaxed enough and distracted enough that his verbal filter has small, critical holes in it. Damn.

Martin sputters. “U-Um, well, I-I suppose… I could, I-I do have a few, er. M-Memorized, if you—you really…” He trails off uncertainly. “You’re. Um. You’re sure?”

Well. Nothing to do but lean into it, Jon supposes. “I wouldn’t have asked if I weren’t sure, Martin,” he says, a bit snippier than he intends. The tips of his ears are hot, and he is deeply thankful that the dimness of the bistro hides the way they’re surely darkening.

“R-Right.” Martin clears his throat, looks down at the table. “I-I suppose I’ll just… do a short one?”

He proceeds to recite, in quiet, surprisingly stutterless lines, one of the poems that Jon already knows from the notebooks he’d left behind in the Archives. It’s… his favorite, if he were forced to pick one. But there is something different—something more—about hearing Martin speak the words aloud rather than simply reading them on a page. Martin pauses in places Jon hadn’t thought to pause, lingers on words he hadn’t thought to linger on, and adds a softness to the ends of lines and phrases that Jon finds himself enraptured by.

Logically, he knows that it’s not good poetry. He’d begrudgingly taken a poetry class during uni, had hated every minute of it, and had donated all of his books to charity shops the moment he wasn’t in need of them anymore. He’s read Dickens and Poe and Whitman—all the works that are considered great representations of their art form.

Martin’s poetry is nothing like theirs. His lines don’t follow the same rhythms; his words are clumsier, his images less profound. But still, even though Jon knows that it is technically not good poetry, he… he likes it.

He tries not to analyze that feeling too closely.

“So, um. Yeah,” Martin says after he finishes, rubbing his thumb over his ring. “I-It’s not really… great work, heh, you know, s-sorry.”

Jon is not the comforting sort. He’s been told that he’s too sharp at the edges, skin too full of spines and thorns. So he surprises himself, and probably his grandmother from beyond the grave, when he reaches across the table and takes Martin’s hand in his. It’s soft and big, the pads of Martin’s fingers lightly calloused from a past history of manual labor, and Jon thinks just for a moment how small his own hands look in Martin’s. He surprises himself even more when he says, honestly, “I enjoyed it, Martin.”

Martin blinks at him, eyes wide and owlish. His hand is rigid in Jon’s, like he’s afraid that if he moves, he’ll frighten Jon away like a skittish cat. “O-Oh.” It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but Jon thinks Martin might be blushing. “Well. T-Thanks.”

Jon nods once stiffly. He does not retract his hand. At first, it’s because he doesn’t think to do so, too wrapped up in the feeling of his skin against Martin’s. Then, it’s because it’s been long enough that doing so would be more awkward than keeping his hand there. He asks Martin about the inspiration behind the poem, for want of another conversation topic, and Martin talks about the trip he took to the countryside once and how it stuck with him, and Jon’s hand remains atop Martin’s. Martin takes a drink from his glass, and Jon takes a drink from his, but both of them use their free hands, as if in unspoken agreement that this is just how things are now. Jon’s hand is resting atop Martin’s and it will be until he has just cause to move it and that is just the way of the universe. Nothing to be done about it.

Their food comes, and looking extremely regretful about the fact, Martin extracts his hand from underneath Jon’s and reaches for his fork. They don’t mention the loss, and it’s quiet for a period of time while Jon eats his chicken karahi and Martin eats his squash curry and Jon tries not to openly moan at how good the food is.

Something must show on his face, because Martin smiles warmly at him and says, “Well? Was that Yelp reviewer correct when they said that the chicken karahi is ‘literally the best food they’ve ever eaten in their entire life’?”

Jon swallows a bite of admittedly very good chicken. “Well. I don’t know that I would quite go to that extreme, but it is rather enjoyable.” Reminds me of the way my grandmother used to make it, he doesn’t say. That feels like a date conversation, and this isn’t a date.

(It feels very much like a date.)

(It isn’t a date.)

“Good,” Martin says. Then, he smiles, wide and unabashed and like a ray of sunlight, and Jon quickly buries himself in his food again so he doesn’t say something foolish like I really like it when you smile at me like that or Is this a date? or I would very much like this to be a date.

They finish eating, and the waiter takes away their plates with the promise of bringing the check soon. Jon’s hands rest on the table, index finger fiddling with the edge of the cloth placemat in front of him. He’s in the middle of trying to convince himself that yes, it would be ridiculous to take Martin’s hand again, you should definitely not do that on this very much not-a-date, when Martin reaches out and takes Jon’s hand in his. Properly takes it, pressing their palms together and slotting his fingers easily between Jon’s and knocking their rings together as he squeezes gently.

“Um,” Jon says eloquently. He should very much not ask if this is a date. “What are you doing?”

Nope, that’s worse. That’s definitely worse.

“Oh!” Martin lets go of Jon’s hand immediately, and Jon does not try to chase Martin’s hand as it retracts, thank you very much. He’s more dignified than that. “S-Sorry, I thought… I, um. Never mind. I-I shouldn’t have… sorry. Again.”

“It’s fine,” Jon finds himself saying. Then, in an effort to do damage control: “I… didn’t mind.”

“You… didn’t?” Martin seems confused, which is understandable. If Georgie were here, she’d tell him that he’s giving, quote, ‘mixed signals.’ He’d never quite understood what counts as ‘mixed signals,’ and he doesn’t know that he ever will.

“I did not,” Jon confirms. “I just… I suppose I…”

He should not ask if this is a date. He really, really shouldn’t.

“Is this a-a date?”

It appears he’s found another one of the holes in his verbal filter. Lovely.

Martin’s eyes grow impossibly wider. He makes a series of sputtering sounds as Jon waits and tries not to bounce a hole through the floor with the heel of his foot. “You—you didn’t…” Martin seems to have a miniature internal debate with himself, his face cycling through a dozen different expressions over the next few seconds. Finally, he sighs and says, eyes fixated on the table between them, “I had… intended it to be. Though I suppose if—if you didn’t know it was a date, that. Um. Kind of defeats the purpose.”

“Does it?” Jon’s mouth says without his permission.

“I-I mean… you can’t really have a one-sided date,” Martin says with an awkward laugh. The waiter is nowhere to be seen, which Jon is grateful for and disheartened by in equal measure. This situation would certainly be easier with a convenient escape.

“I… suppose.” Jon worries at the edge of the placemat, pulling on a loose thread. “Though, it’s… if this were a date—or, I suppose, if I-I’d known it was meant to be a date—I… wouldn’t have acted much differently.” He pulls harder at the thread, feeling a bit bad for the way the fabric bunches around it. “I… would not have been… that is to say, I would have liked it if… rather, to say that I didn’t think about it would be, er… well, incorrect.”

Martin stares at him, clearly unable to make sense of Jon’s admittedly disjointed, half-finished sentences. Jon sighs and says, under his breath, “I am not opposed to considering tonight a date.”

Martin’s cheeks are red enough now that Jon can see the flush, even in the dim light. “U-Um. What?”

“I am not opposed,” Jon repeats, louder, “to considering tonight a date.” Lord, that’s mortifying to say out loud. How do people do this? To emphasize his point, he sticks his hand out, palm-up on the table. It’s stiff and awkward and he probably looks like a cat with its hackles raised. He focuses on the cable knit of Martin’s jumper so he doesn’t have to see whatever amused or mocking or disappointed expression is on Martin’s face as he realizes just how bad Jon is at all of this.

Martin is quiet for a moment. Then, just as Jon is about to pull his hand away and flee for the exit, he feels a touch against his palm. Martin’s hand settles tentatively atop his—not weaving their fingers together, not even properly holding it, just… pressing together, palm to palm. Jon can feel Martin’s heartbeat faintly against the tips of his fingers where they press against the inside of Martin’s wrist. “Okay,” Martin says softly, like Jon has just given him a precious gift. “Then it’s a date.”

It’s a date. Jon’s skin has absolutely no reason to prickle at those words, nor does his stomach have any reason to squeeze and sprout butterflies. He nods, a bit brusquely, and opens his mouth to say something—god knows what—when the waiter appears next to their table, somehow having both comically bad and impossibly good timing.

Martin pays, despite Jon’s insistence that he can cover his own share, and then they’re back out in the cool night air, making their way toward the tube station. The first few minutes are quiet. There’s a tension between them that feels more anticipatory than awkward. Their hands brush once, twice. Then, on the third time, Martin hooks his fingers around Jon’s and clasps his hand in his, and Jon lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

They hold hands all the way to the tube station, up until they have to part ways to take separate lines. Jon runs through all the things that he thinks he’s supposed to say in a situation like this—I had fun tonight or We should do this again sometime or… something—but ends up saying instead, “How long have you…?”

He trails off, squeezing Martin’s hand a few times thoughtlessly, like a warm, bony stress ball. Martin seems to infer the rest of his question, however, because he squeezes Jon’s hand in return and says, “It’s… new for me too, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jon nods and squeezes Martin’s hand again. He thinks that’s going to become quite a habit if they keep this up. “Right.”

Martin hesitates, before letting his grip on Jon’s hand loosen slightly. “We… we don’t have to do this again if you don’t want to. I-I know things are complicated right now, and I…” He worries his bottom lip between his teeth. “I want to do this again, for… for what it’s worth. But I get it. If you don’t, that is. For—for any reason.”

“I do,” Jon says, surprising himself with his conviction. “I-I don’t… you’re right. Things are… complicated.” That’s certainly a word for it. “But I… I trust you, Martin. O-Or… I want to trust you.” He takes a deep breath. “I am making the decision to trust you.” It’s hard and it’s terrifying and there’s an animal instinct deep within Jon that’s telling him not to expose his vulnerable side, but… somehow, despite all of that, Martin makes him feel… well. Not safe, but as close to safe as he can get right now. Which is an accomplishment in its own right.

Martin exhales slowly and gives Jon a small, hesitant smile. “Thank you. I-I know that’s difficult, and I…” Martin squeezes Jon’s hand, just once. “I-I’m happy.”

And Jon finds that he means it when he says softly, “I’m happy too.”

Martin gets on his train, and Jon gets on his. And despite the ever-present itching beneath his skin and the persistent belief that something isn’t right and the knowledge that he is likely a hunted man, from the moment he lets go of Martin’s hand to the moment he closes his eyes and curls onto his side in bed, that happiness remains.

#tma #the magnus archives #jonathan sims #martin blackwood #jonmartin #ask #anon #this got so incredibly long... i hope you like it! #my writing #my fic

[shirakumos-sandwich-shop]

❄️Arranged Marriage ❄️

SCARAMOCHE X FEM READER X TARTAGLIA

Part 1.

You caressed the delicate petals of the newly bloomed silk flower. It was much too cold in snezhnaya for such a plant to exist but with the gentle coaks of your dendro vision all the buds on the exquisite bush unfurled their petals. The warm sweet scent from the flowers contrasted dramatically with the flurries of snow you could see outside of the humid greenhouse. This is where you were happiest, in the small glass building behind your parents’ mansion. Here you could be alone to study your beloved plants as much as you wished. You collected the seeds from the silk flower for replanting. The door behind you creaked open letting in a burst of cold.

“For goodness sake close the door, it will damage the plants!” You spun around to confront the maid that had entered. The girl jumped to close the door behind her.

“I’m sorry for yelling, just please be careful. I’m working on a new specimen.”

“It’s alright Miss Y/n, I’ll be more careful next time.” She stepped forward. “Miss, your parents wish to speak with you about an important matter. They said for you to come right away.”

“Whatever it is, they can wait till I’ve finished collecting these seeds.” You returned to your meticulous work.

“They said right away Miss y/n.” The maid said urgently.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming.” You tucked the last of the seeds safely away in a drawer and pulled on your warm fur lined coat. You followed your maid out and carefully closed the greenhouse door behind you. Trudging through the snow to the large house.

You found your parents quietly discussing some important matter in your father’s study. As you entered the room they stopped talking and looked at you.

“Y/n, I told you to come quickly, yet here we are waiting around for you.” Your mother said forcefully.

“It’s alright y/n,” your father interrupted. “Have a seat.”

“What’s this about?” You asked while sitting in the uncomfortable wooden chair.

“Should you begin or should I?” Your father asked your mother.

“You tell her, she listens to you, not me.” Your mother said grumpily.

“Well, your mother,”

“And your father.” Your mother interrupted.

“Yes, and I.” Your father spoke patiently. “We have decided it’s time for you to get married.”

Silence deadened the room as you stared at them in shock.

“….what?” Is all you could say. You had expected something like this to happen at some point but it was still a surprise.

“Yes y/n, it’s time for you to finally do something for this family. I will not allow you to fritter away your days like you have been.” Your mother chided.

“I’ve been studying! Not frittering away anything!” You raised your voice.

“Don’t speak to me like that! It’s all planned, we have a suitable young man already chosen.”

“I don’t even get to decide who it is?” You sputtered, standing up out of the chair.

“Y/n,” your father broke in tiredly. “Sit down.” You did as he asked. “I do think this is the best thing for you. I wouldn’t let it happen if I didn’t think so.”

Hot tears were threatening to burn your eyes now.

“If it makes you feel better he has not completely given his answer yet. He has his own conditions.”

“What are they? You're supposed to give him loads of money or something?”

“No,” your father chuckled. “Nothing like that. He wants to meet you, but anonymously. Tomorrow there is a celebration being held in honor of the Tsaritsa. He asked for you to come so he can meet you.”

“I won’t know who he is? Is that it?” You asked.

“Exactly.”

“How cliche…” you sighed.

“After he has met you, he will give us his final answer.”

“You better be on your best behavior tomorrow.” Your mother scolded you like you had already set the table clothes at the celebration on fire.

There was no escaping it, once your mother had her mind made up she wouldn’t stop until you gave in.

“Fine…” you got up and left the room.

———

Your mother had micromanaged your whole day leading up to the celebration. Your hair had been arranged, taken down, and rearranged so many times your head was aching. Yet she was never satisfied. You utterly rejected the frilly pink monstrosity that was the dress she had prepared. Once you threatened to vomit on the dress you finally had your way. You chose from your extensive closet a long gray dress with embroidered lavender flowers. Your dendro vision hung on your back. Night was beginning to fall and your mother was rushing you out the door.

The party reminded you of a ball out of a fairytale. You would have enjoyed the visual splendor if not for the anxiety growing in your gut. Your parents made their way through the crowds chatting and greeting random equantances. You headed off by yourself to find an empty table to sit at.

“Y/n!” A cheery voice said behind you. You turned to see your childhood friend Childe running up to you. “Fancy meeting you here?” He flirted.

“Oh shut up Tartaglia.” You nudged his side and he chuckled. He held out his hand to you.

“Well?” He said.

“What?”

“Aren’t we dancing?” He questioned.

“Ugh fine.” You rolled your eyes. As soon as you took his offered hand he whisked you onto the dance floor into an energetic waltz. Is the waltz supposed to be energetic?

He occupied your time with friendly chatting. You slowly became more comfortable with the whole situation, he always had that effect on you.

Could he be the one my parents were talking about?

Doubtful, why would he have needed to meet me first then. But… maybe, it could be. You dared to hope it was. The thought of marrying him was oddly comforting.

“Whatcha thinking about?” He asked curiously.

“Oh uh… nothing.” Your cheeks blushed at the thoughts you were just having.

“You were thinking about me huh?” He pinched your cheek teasingly.

“No! Shut up!” You huffed. “Just a lot on my mind is all.”

Should I tell him about the marriage?

You decided against it. It wasn’t even official yet.

“Can I sit down? I’m pretty tired out now.” You told him.

“Sure, y/n.” He led you to an empty seat next to the dance floor. Immediately someone who looked vaguely important started talking to him. He was a harbinger after all, many things occupied his time now.

“Y/n,” Tartaglia caught your attention. “I need to take care of something. I’ll be back okay?”

“Okay, see you soon.” You gave him a smile and you noticed a dusting of pink appeared on his cheeks. He spun around and left you alone once more.

Time passed slowly. You watched the people dancing and sipped on a cup of Monstat’s dandelion wine. Several men came up to you in this time and asked for a dance. You declined them all. If one of them was your potential fiancé you hoped he had been turned off for good. The touch of a hand lifting your vision from your back startled you and you wiped around. A man with dark purple hair and startling violet eyes raised an eyebrow at you.

“A dendro vision.” He said simply, running his finger over the green glassy surface of your vision. “Very unusual.”

“Yes? what about it?” You snapped. “Would you give it back please.” You held out your hand, you were almost surprised when he placed it into your palm.

“Not many people have those. I’ve only seen one, maybe two.” The unknown male said.

“So what?” You glared at him.

He smirked at your hostility. You found him oddly familiar, you knew you had seen him before but couldn’t place him. He walked over and sat next to you.

“Who are you?” He questioned.

“Why do you want to know?” You folded your arms.

“Because I’m interested.”

“In what? Me or my vision?”

“Both.” He said decidedly. He leaned back in his chair and unbuttoned his suit jacket. His questioning stare bore into you.

“Well?” He said.

“Y/n L/n.” You looked away quickly. In doing so you missed the sudden surprised expression on his face.

“I’m Scaramoche.” He said.

The realization of who you were sitting next to dawned on you.

“6th of the Fatui Harbingers?” You finished for him.

“You know who I am then?”

“Only by reputation.” You stated.

He got up from his chair and stood in front of you. You tried to avoid his piercing gaze but to no avail. He held out his hand to you.

“Coming?” He said.

“What?”

“To dance? I’m not asking twice.”

~ IDK IF I WILL POST THE OTHER PARTS TO THIS OR NOT, IF YOU LIKE IT AND WANT MORE LET ME KNOW~

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #genshin impact imagines #tartaglia x reader #tartaglia #scaramoche #scaramoche x reader #arranged marriage fic #angst #genshin angst #genshin fanfic #what am I doing?? #genshin oneshots #childe

[lotusss-flowerbomb]

Something Like A Virgin

Bucky x reader

Warnings: Smut (like y’all ain’t know), 18+

A/N: This story has unprotected sex. Remember that this is fiction and in real life even if you you pack it in plastic it’ll still be fantastic.

Word Count: 2,492

********

"I knew this was a bad idea," Bucky jumped up from his chair to leave.

"No, Bucky, come on," you followed behind him.

"You promised not to make fun of me," he said.

"I didn't!" You proclaimed.

"You aww'd me. You do that when you're making fun of Bruce all the time."

He was right. But this time you didn't mean it towards him.

"No, I just think it's sweet, that's all. You don't have to be embarrassed," you grabbed his hand.

"I'm not embarrassed. I've had plenty of sex before. I'm not a virgin."

"Yeah, but you've only done it when hydra was in your head. You've never done it of your own volition, so you're something like a virgin, babe." You explained.

"I don't know why I thought telling you was a good idea," he exhaled.

"We both know why you told me, Bucky. It's because you want to fuck me, right?"

That was exactly right, but instead of asking you out properly, he tripped all over his words and suddenly what he wanted to say came out as him telling his secrets.

Bucky swallowed hard. He was speechless at how straight forward you were.

"It's so cute that I make you nervous," you smiled devilishly. "Tell you what, I'll give you three days to prepare yourself, then I'll meet you at your place at 8." You tapped his nose and walked away.

********

Day 1

Bucky was a nervous wreck. He had no idea what to do for you and he needed to figure it out quickly with only a few days to prepare. He Googled "date ideas" and scrolled through the many suggestions.

"What are you doing?" T'Challa asked looking over his shoulder.

"Nothing," he quickly locked the phone and put it face down beside him.

"Mmm hmm, you have a date? With who?"

Before he could answer you walked into the room.

"Your Majesty," you curtsied.

"Please, you know I hate it when you do that," he stood to hug you.

"How are you?"

"The sun is shining, so I cannot complain."

"And how are you?" You turned to a quiet Bucky.

"Fine," he shifted in his seat.

"Okay, well I just wanted to come say hello since I heard you were here. I'll leave you guys to it." You exited the room.

They both said goodbye and T'Challa eyeballed Bucky.

"She is going to eat you alive," he snickers.

"I'm gonna cancel," Bucky pulled out his phone to text you.

"You will do no such thing. I will have no brother of mine running from a challenge. Come on, we'll figure this out together." He pulled out his own phone to help with ideas.

You were simple. Bucky had noticed the little things made you happiest and technically you didn't say it was a date, rather than just sex, but he still wanted to do something romantic.

The two men worked together and came up with a few ideas. Bucky thought it was overkill, but T'Challa was already on his phone arranging for someone to come decorate and set up the apartment.

"Do you also need tips on how to make her —"

"No!" Bucky cut him off.

"I'm kidding," he laughed and patted him on the shoulder. "I guess I should get work since I'm here. I hope your date goes well."

********

Day 2 

Bucky inhaled and then exhaled before knocking on your door.

You smiled at him when you opened it and saw him on the other side.

"Hey, Buck, what's going on?" You asked.

"I just wanted to see you," he said shyly.

"Oh, that's sweet," you moved to the side and let him in.

He went over to the couch and took a seat. You sat next to him awkwardly rubbing your hands up and down your thighs.

You sat in silence until you couldn't stand it anymore. You straddled his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.

Bucky was hard within seconds. He palmed your ass in the little shorts you were wearing as he leaned back further and grinded into you.

"Wait," he broke the kiss. "I've got a whole evening planned for us tomorrow. I don't want to ruin it."

"You want to wait? I mean, we can wait if you really want to," you swivel your hips on his lap.

You meant it. If he wanted to wait, you'd respect his wishes. But damn if his thick cock didn't feel good right now.

"I guess we could still do this tomo—"

"Oh, thank goodness," you pressed your lips to his again.

You lifted up a little bit to pull his pants off of his waist. Although you could feel him, you were completely unprepared for what you were looking down at. The thick veiny vessel was already dripping precum.

You wrapped your hand around it and stroked slowly. Bucky leaned his head back with a pleasure filled groan. Sliding down his lap to your knees, you swirled your tongue around the tip and then sucked the head into your mouth, letting it go with a loud smack.

"Mmm, you have no idea how long I've wanted to do that," you said while looking up at him. "Tell me what you want, Bucky." You went back to slowly stroking him.

When moved to stand you sat back on your legs to give him room. He gripped himself with his flesh hand and grabbed your hair with the other pulling your head back.

"You'll tell me if you can't take it?" He inquired.

You nodded.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," he urged you to say.

"Yes, Sergeant Barnes," you repeated.

"That's my girl," he smiled. "Open wide," he tapped the tip of his dick on your lips.

You complied and your pussy throbbed with excitement.

He slid his dick into your mouth, watching as he slowly disappeared inside. You pulled his pants down the rest of the way, so nothing was keeping you from swallowing all of him.

"Fucccckkkk, you're taking me like such a good girl," he grunts.

You were shocked. This is what you'd been waiting to see; Bucky take charge. He was always so shy and careful. Making sure to never do anything to make anyone uncomfortable, but now was his time to let loose and you were loving every moment of it.

He fucked your throat and listened to the sounds of you taking it all in. Your nails dug into his thighs and the tears streamed down your face. He finally pulled out to give you a break.

Bucky needed to feel you. He sat back down and patted his lap, signaling for you to sit. You slowly lowered yourself down on him.

"Ooooh, yessss!"

"Feel good, baby?"

"Yes, Sergeant," you kissed his throat.

You tucked your feet beneath his legs and bounced on his dick. Bucky ran his tongue over your nipple and sucked it into his mouth.

You grabbed his chin and put his head back. He smirked up at you and stuck his tongue out. You sucked on it and then swirled yours with his into a sloppy kiss.

He was close to his orgasm, so he grabbed your hips and fucked into you rapidly.

"Fuck yes, you gonna cum for me?" You held on taking him all in.

"Right in this tight little pussy."

"No, Buck, I'm not —"

He grabbed your throat, cutting off your words, "Do not deny me."

"Shit!" You yelled as you came all over him.

It was something about the demanding tone of his voice and the cool vibranium wrapped around your throat that tipped you over the edge immediately.

You watched the metal shift in his arm as he started cumming. You kept fucking until he gave you all that he had.

"Fuck," he groaned as he pressed soft kisses in between your breasts and then finally to your lips.

You tried to get up, but he held you in place with a soft, "Not yet."

********

Day 3

The day had finally arrived. Bucky had been on cloud nine ever since the two of you had fucked. It had only been a few hours and he was definitely craving more of you.

Bucky was walking past the media room when he heard your laugh. He saw you sitting far too close to Pietro for his liking, so he decided to come in.

"Hey, can I talk to you for a second," he grabbed your hand and pulled you up without waiting for a reply.

He practically dragged you into the other room and shut the door behind you.

"What the hell, Bucky?" You asked.

"Why is he touching you?"

"What?" You scrunch your face.

"You're all leaning on him and giggling. I don't like it," he said.

"Aw, are you jealous?"

"Y/N, I'm serious," his voice deepened.

You unbuttoned your pants and grabbed his hand, sliding them down into your panties and curling his fingers into your wet pussy.

"You feel that? That's all for you, Sergeant," you swiveled your hips so you could fuck his fingers.

Bucky groaned. You were soaking wet and his dick was so hard, that he wanted to take you right then and there, but resisted the urge. Instead, he kept working his fingers inside of you.

"Don't stop, baby, I'm so close." You grabbed on to his wrist.

Your moans were getting louder and louder the closer you got to your climax.

"Mmm, fuccckkk!"

He pulled his fingers from you and worked your clit as the pleasure washed over you.

Bucky rubbed his fingers between your folds again and then pulled them out. Loving the look of your slick nectar on his fingers. He stuck his middle finger in your mouth and watched you suck your juices off. Saving the other for himself.

"I can't wait until later," he said in your ear and then walked out of the room.

It made your pussy quiver all over again.

********

Finally, the time rolls around for you to go to Bucky's apartment. When you made these plans, you were full of confidence, so why were you nervous right now??

You knocked on his door and waited a few seconds for him to answer.

"Hey, doll," he opened the door and quickly stepped out.

"Um, so I'm not coming inside?" You laughed nervously.

"Yes, but put this on first. I want it to be a real surprise," he slid a mask over your eyes.

"Buck, what are you up to?" You questioned.

He opened the door and led you inside.

"Okay, are you ready?"

You pulled the mask off instead of waiting. Your eyes widened in surprise when you looked around the apartment. Flowers and candles covered just about every space.

Your silence was scary. Bucky was getting nervous that he'd over done it for a night that was supposed to just be about sex. He didn't want to run you off, but the hopeless romantic in him wanted to do something special.

"You did all of this for me?" You turned to him.

"Yeah, um, T'Challa helped me get this set up," he rubbed his neck.

He was once again met with silence.

"I can blow out the candles if it's too much."

"No, no it's not too much. No one has ever done this for me before. And honestly, I didn't even know you had in you."

"I'm a man of my time," he smiled and grabbed your hand to lead you down the candlelit path.

When you entered the bedroom, you were met with more flowers and a giant teddy bear. You squealed and ran over to hug it. It smelled just like Bucky's cologne.

"Thank you," you turned around to kiss him. "I feel bad that I didn't get you anything."

"Oh, you'll get me plenty," he scooped you up, so you'd wrap your legs around his waist.

He carried you to the bed and laid you down.

"You look beautiful."

"Thank y—"

Was all you got out before he ripped your dress down the front. He pulled off the flimsy lace underwear and threw them aside before diving in between your thighs.

Bucky licked and sucked your clit with such fervor, you were beginning to think that he was enjoying himself far more than you were.

He pushed your knees up, so your entire pussy was in his face. You lifted up on your elbows so you could watch.

"Ooh, yes, let me see that tongue. Now suck this pussy, baby," you chanted.

He moaned into you as did everything you requested.

Unable to stand it anymore, he used one hand to unbutton his pants and slowly stroke his pulsing cock.

"I'm gonna cum!" You grabbed a fist full of his hair and fucked his face.

He locked his arms around your thighs and enjoyed every moment of this. Your legs trembled in his hold as you soaked his face.

Bucky stood up and stroked himself some more. He could eat your pussy forever, but he needed to feel you.

"You ready for me?" He quizzed.

You couldn't speak. Just slid your hand in between your legs and spread your pussy lips. He guided himself inside of you with a heavy groan as he inched in deeper.

Rolling his hips slowly, he watched as you bit your lip and pinched your eyes shut. Your back arching as he hit your spot just right.

"Turn over," he pulled out. "Mm, now arch that back for. Good girlllll," he hummed.

He slid back into your wet core and fucked you harder. His hips snapped to the perfect rhythm as you gripped the blankets.

"Yes! Fuck, don't stop!" You yelled.

"You gonna be a good little doll and cum for me again?" He smacked your ass.

"Ah! Yes, Sergeant Barnes!"

"Not yet. Not until you tell me I can cum in my pussy."

You tightened around him. There he goes again being demanding. You were loving it.

"I want you to — fuck, this is your pussy. Cum in this pussyyyyy!" The dam broke.

You coated him in your essence and he watched his dick as he exploded inside of you.

His stuttering hips added to your pleasure. You made sure to stay perfectly arched for him until he was done, then he slowly pulled out and watched the mixture of cum leak out of you.

Bucky smacked your sensitive pussy lightly. He just couldn't get enough of you.

He pulled you into his chest and kissed your shoulder. Heavy breathing resounding throughout the room.

He cuddled you for a few minutes before going to the bathroom and starting a bath. His dick was still semi hard, so it smacked his thigh as he walked and your pussy was ready for another round at the sight.

He smiled when he noticed you watching.

"Don't worry, doll, I'm not finished with you yet," he promised.

#Bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #bucky x you #Smut #marvel smut #marvel fanfic #Avengers

[julek]

for love, for love, for love

for @writinglizards <3 love you, i hope you enjoy the filth. | READ ON AO3

rated E | 2.8K | warnings: A/B/O, intersex omegas, knotting

The sun was shining, birds were singing, and Jaskier was in love.

After years and years and some more years of pining and moping around miserably, Jaskier had finally gathered up the courage (and the liquor) to look into soft vanilla-eyes and utter the most important three words that had ever crossed his mind. And he’d watched as Geralt’s eyes had softened, melting into amber, and crinkled around the corners; felt the way his scent had gone sweet and the faint smell of lust had begun to fill his senses.

And they’d fallen into bed — after a murmured yes, I do too, and a sigh of relief, and sweet nothings whispered between long-coming kisses. And Jaskier had found himself pressed flat against the rickety inn bed as Geralt’s breaths came hot and heavy against his throat, their hips pressed together. They’d come just like that — legs entwined and sweaty kisses being pressed into each other’s skin.

Jaskier had expected Witchers to be different — Geralt had offhandedly mentioned some of the changes they’d had to go through in their adolescence, the way their skin stretched and their muscles tore apart just to be rebuilt anew. He was the only omega in his pack, he’d told him, and had therefore been trained harder, pushed into new limits just to be assured he would stand his ground in a fight. What a load of shit, Jaskier had thought, the image of a brown-haired Geralt chained to a bed, crying out in pain making his hackles rise.

“I want you to knot me,” Geralt had murmured against his chest, unprompted, that first night. Jaskier groaned.

“You— that— you can’t just say that to me, Geralt,” he’d huffed, frowning at Geralt’s self-satisfied smirk. “You’ve basically rendered me useless for the months to come, dear.”

Geralt shrugged. “I want you to,” he said simply. “I wanted you to, tonight.”

“Oh?” Jaskier made an inhuman effort to sit up straighter, propped against the wall with two-hundred pounds of satisfied Witcher on top of him. “I didn’t— I would never assume.”

Geralt pressed a kiss to the hollow of his throat, burrowing closer into Jaskier’s warmth. “I know,” he murmured. Then, he took a deep breath. “It’s harder, for us,” he said. “To be… prepared.” He looked up at Jaskier. “Here,” he said, and took Jaskier’s hand, guiding it down to his crotch. Jaskier’s breath hitched as his fingers gently brushed against Geralt’s folds, but a tiny frown appeared on his brow when, instead of hot wetness, he was met with dry skin.

He looked at Geralt. “But did you—”

“I did,” Geralt reassured him. He closed his eyes. “Witchers— I can’t produce much slick. No matter how much I want to.”

“Oh,” Jaskier said, his voice small.

Geralt took Jaskier’s hand back, began playing with his fingers. “I’m— I can’t carry. The Trials took that away, and they thought… they thought I wouldn’t be tempted to try, either, if it was harder for me to…” He trails off, gesturing at their bodies. “I’m broken. I’m sorry.”

Jaskier took him into his arms and hugged him tightly to his chest, his nose pressed against the crook of his neck, and felt Geralt’s shoulders release some of the tension they were holding. “I love you,” he murmured. “You. You’re not broken.” He kissed the top of his head. “I want you to feel good. To enjoy yourself.” He pulled back, meeting Geralt’s eyes. “You make me feel—” He spluttered, at a loss for eloquency, and it made Geralt laugh. “I don’t even have words for it. You make me feel incredible, love, and I only want the same for you.”

Geralt leaned his forehead against Jaskier’s. “Thank you,” he said, his voice small. “I do want your knot, though.”

Jaskier laughed, his thumb rubbing Geralt’s hip soothingly. “And I’d love to give it to you, any time, no questions asked,” he replied. “Is there something we could do?”

Geralt leaned back, sitting on Jaskier’s lap. They were touching everywhere, and Jaskier couldn’t get enough of it. “Oil could work. Takes too much time, though, and it— it doesn’t feel good.” He frowned. “We could… when my heat comes,” he said, awkwardly. “No way of telling when that would be, though.”

The sole mention of sharing Geralt’s heat made Jaskier’s Alpha preen. “You’d like that?”

Geralt nodded. “I would.” His shoulders slumped slightly. “I’m sorry it’s all I can offer you, Jask.”

Jaskier shook his head, his hands coming up to rest on either side of Geralt’s head. “You are enough,” he said. “All of you, always. Believe me” —he rocked his half-hard cock against Geralt’s thigh— “you will never leave me wanting. I want you because I love you, not because I want to fuck you.” Geralt smiled. “Which I do want to do, because you drive me insane— but I’d happily be by your side if all you ever wanted to do was kiss,” he said, and pressed a sweet kiss to Geralt’s lips to emphasize his point. “Because I love you.”

There was a faint blush on Geralt’s cheeks, and he smirked. “You’ve said.”

“And I hope you know I’ll never stop,” Jaskier replied, grinning. “I love you, I love you, I lo—”

Geralt had shut him up with a kiss of his own.

Seasons had passed, flowers had bloomed and empires had fallen, and they’d gotten creative. Geralt was insatiable, Jaskier had learned, and he’d discovered countless ways to make him come — on his fingers, on his mouth, rutting against his half-blown knot. Their scents were intermingled, now, sweet jasmine and olives entangled with leather and fresh bread.

“My heat is near,” Geralt whispered to him one night, pressed against his body as they were laying on their bedrolls.

“Yeah?” Jaskier replied, willing the thumping of his heart to slow down, even if Geralt would be able to tell anyway. “How near?”

Geralt rolled around to face him. “A week.”

Smiling softly, Jaskier pressed him closer, wrapping his arms around him and dropping a kiss on his temple. Tentatively, Geralt purred against him. “A week.”

As the days passed, Jaskier could feel Geralt grow more and more restless, pacing around their camp on nights when he had nothing else to do and kicking and thrashing in his sleep. His scent was changing, too, turning sweeter and heavier, making Jaskier dizzy whenever he caught a whiff of it.

He secured an inn room for them, his hard-earned coin going into the sticky hands of the innkeeper. Geralt had protested — had argued he could spend his heat in the forest, for crying out loud, but he’d taken one look at Jaskier and realized there would be no bargaining.

He hadn’t let Jaskier help with the nest, though. In fact, he’d made him leave the room — just outside, though, as he couldn’t stand it if Jaskier wandered too far — and had looked very sheepish as Jaskier had walked in again, his eyes falling on his arrangement. Jaskier had refrained from calling it adorable and shedding a tear or two, only because Geralt’s heat was hours away and he could not get his hands off him.

“I need you,” Geralt whined, already scrambling to get Jaskier’s clothes off. “Now.”

Not one to argue, Jaskier hurried to remove his doublet and chemise as Geralt hungrily tore at the knots on his trousers. Their mouths clashed against each other, hot and wet, as Geralt kissed him fiercely, Jaskier giving as good as he got. He got a hold of Geralt’s undershirt and took it off, tossing it on the floor, and his pants followed. He pulled back, and took a moment.

“What?” Geralt said, and Jaskier’s Alpha roared at the sight of him — fully nude and covered in a light sheen of sweat, the sunlight pouring from the closed window enveloping him in warmth, his flushed cheeks and tousled hair the picture of his dreams, his hard cocklet jutting against the cut of his abdomen, an inviting sight.

“Look at you,” Jaskier rumbled, his hands coming down to frame Geralt’s waist. Geralt let out a pitiful whine, embarrassed. “No, no— how could you be ashamed, when you look this beautiful.” He nosed at his throat, breathing in the sweet, ripe scent of him. “I want to eat you up.”

“Please.” Geralt pressed himself against Jaskier’s body, his cocklet rocking against Jaskier’s half-hard cock. “Please, Alpha.”

Any thread of sanity Jaskier had been holding onto snapped as he growled low in his throat in response, mouthing at Geralt’s shoulder, feeling the shudder that ran down his spine. “Geralt.”

“Yes, please, yes, Jaskier,” he panted. “Please.”

Pressing a tender kiss to his mouth, Jaskier led him to the bed. They fell against the soft, worn blankets, Geralt’s back pressed against them as his thighs winded around Jaskier’s waist.

“So eager,” he teased, but rocked down against Geralt. He pressed kisses to his mouth, his cheeks, his throat, any part of him he could reach as his fingers travelled down Geralt’s chest, down, down, down until he brushed against his cocklet, making him moan. “There you go,” he said, jerking him between his fingers. “Good boy.”

Geralt gasped at the praise, falling back against the mattress, boneless, as Jaskier pressed open-mouthed kisses down his body, following the invisible line his finger had drawn just a moment ago. “Such a good boy for me,” he murmured, reveling in the needy mewl it pulled out of his Witcher. “So beautiful.”

“Jask—” whatever Geralt wanted to say died in his throat as Jaskier licked a stripe up his cunt and his words dissolved into a punched-out moan. “F-fuck, Jask.”

Jaskier hummed against him, his tongue lapping gently against Geralt’s folds, the taste of his slick inundating his senses. He wasn’t dripping, not yet, but as Jaskier pressed his finger against Geralt’s opening, he could feel its warmth as it clenched around nothing. “So wet for me,” he panted, pressing a kiss to the curls just above his cocklet. “Such a pretty omega.”

“Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hand coming down to rest on Jaskier’s head as he continued lapping at his cunt, the filthy sounds of Geralt’s moans and his slick going straight to his cock where it hung heavy between his legs, neglected. Gently, Jaskier pushed his tongue against Geralt’s entrance, fucking him with shallow thrusts in a rhythm he knew drove Geralt crazy, delighted in the barely-there resistance he found as he pushed his tongue inside.

“I’m— Jask,” Geralt panted, his grip tight on Jaskier’s hair, “I’m gonna—”

Jaskier hummed against him, and that drove him over the edge. Geralt’s thighs pressed hard against Jaskier’s head, locking him in, his cunt clenching around nothing as his hips rocked forward against Jaskier’s tongue, little ah, ah, ah sounds being pulled out of him.

“So good,” Jaskier purred, his fingers rubbing soothing circles on Geralt’s thighs as his breaths evened out. Jaskier had always teased him for how useless he was rendered once he’d come, but the scent of his heat was thick and heavy around them, and he could see in Geralt’s eyes that he wouldn’t be sleeping any time soon. Good, his Alpha rumbled, let’s keep our pretty mate awake.

Jaskier shook his head, willing his possessive Alpha away. Geralt wasn’t his — as much as he’d wanted to — and he wasn’t going to be yet another knotheaded alpha who couldn’t keep his teeth to himself.

“Hey,” Geralt said softly, bringing him out of his reverie. He was looking at him with tenderness in his eyes. “C’mere.”

Jaskier went happily, his mouth finding Geralt’s in a slow, deep kiss. He swallowed Geralt’s moan as he tasted himself in his mouth, his fingers brushing lightly against Geralt’s soft stomach.

He grinned when he felt Geralt whine.

“Desperate already?”

In response, Geralt flipped them around, positioning himself above Jaskier as he ground down against him. His cocklet was rock-hard again, brushing against Jaskier’s leaking cock, making him moan.

“You feel so good, pup,” he managed, his hands resting on Geralt’s hips, not guiding, simply holding. “So— fuck, so perfect.”

Geralt bent down to kiss him, filthy and hard, and suddenly the movement stopped. Jaskier was about to complain when Geralt lifted himself up a bit, and Jaskier felt his dripping cunt grind against the base of his cock.

“Fuck, Geralt— fuck.” The pressure on his aching knot made his eyes roll back in his head with pleasure, and fuck— Geralt’s cunt was wet and soft against him as he moved up and down. They both moaned as, on a well-aimed thrust, the head of Jaskier’s cock caught on Geralt’s opening.

“Jaskier,” his Witcher panted, and there was a needy edge to his voice, “please.”

“What do you want?” Jaskier asked, out of breath himself, his hands running up and down Geralt’s sides as he rocked his length against Geralt.

Geralt whined. “You.”

“You’ll need— ah— to be more specific, dear.”

“I want— fuck,” Geralt shuddered. “I need your knot.”

Jaskier was a mere mortal, after all. In a swift movement, he pressed two of his fingers to Geralt’s sopping cunt, rubbing his entrance just to get him used to the feeling. He was used to it — had come on Jaskier’s fingers rubbing against him more than once — but Jaskier needed to be sure.

“C’mon, I’m good, please.” Jaskier pressed his fingers inside, punching out a groan out of his Witcher, who rocked down on his fingers as deep as he could go. “More,” he pleaded, and Jaskier could do nothing more than comply.

With three fingers deep inside of him, Geralt deemed himself ready. “Now, Jaskier, please.”

Jaskier used his slicked-up hand to smooth over his cock, and Geralt whined at the loss, chanting feverishly, “Please Alpha, please, I need your knot, want it so bad, I need—”

“Geralt,” Jaskier said, reaching for a kiss. Geralt melted against him, and Jaskier positioned him over his swollen cock. “Ready?”

Geralt clawed at his back. “Yes, yes, please—”

In one smooth motion, Jaskier entered him. It felt heavenly, the wet warmth enveloping him and swallowing him whole, the feeling of Geralt’s body against him, sweaty and wound-up and perfect, his needy mewls coming out of his chest unbidden. He reveled in it.

But then, Geralt started to move, and whatever ode Jaskier had been composing in his head flew out of the window, because this— this made Jaskier sob, for there was nothing like it.

Jaskier leaned back against the blankets and watched, enraptured, as Geralt bounced up and down on his cock, and it was filthy — the way his hair was messy and disheveled, his cheeks dark red and his eyes shut with pleasure — but it was also oh so tender, watching him chase his release with abandon.

“Fuck, Jask,” Geralt moaned, his hands on Jaskier’s chest as he picked up speed, Jaskier’s swollen knot catching on his entrance. Slick was dripping down his thighs. “Feel so good.”

Jaskier groaned, his orgasm building up inside him. “Geralt, dear— fucking Melitele— fuck, I’m not going to last.”

“Good,” Geralt purred, his pace never faltering. “Give me your knot, Alpha.”

And oh, how Jaskier wanted to. Still, “Are you sure?”

Geralt slowed down the slightest bit, and pressed a soft kiss to Jaskier’s lips. “I’m sure,” he said. “I love you.”

Jaskier pushed his knot inside as he came with a groan. All he could think of was Geralt, Geralt, Geralt, as he felt him clench down on his knot, milking him. “Fuck, Geralt—”

“Yes, yes, good Alpha,” Geralt chanted, reaching down between his legs and rubbing his leaking cocklet. “Jaskier—”

He kept coming, pumping Geralt full of it, and the thought made him shudder. “My sweet omega, so beautiful, so good to me—”

Geralt came with a cry, his hips stuttering and pushing Jaskier’s knot deeper inside him. It dragged a moan out of Jaskier, feeling the tie tug against him, and Geralt collapsed on top of him.

Gently, and with as much care as he could manage, Jaskier arranged them on their sides. They moaned as the movement tugged on Jaskier’s knot, and Jaskier pressed a kiss to Geralt’s temple, his arms wrapped around him.

“Geralt,” he whispered.

“Mmm.”

Jaskier laughed, dazed. “Love.”

“Mmmmmmm.”

Ah, useless after coming. “How do you feel?”

Geralt pressed back against him, clenching weakly around him. “Good,” he rasped. “So good.”

Jaskier hummed behind him, pressing soft kisses on his shoulder, his neck, his cheek. “I’m glad.”

Geralt turned his head, reaching for a kiss. Jaskier gave it to him. “I love you,” he whispered against his lips, and Jaskier felt his heart leap in his chest.

“I love you too,” he answered.

Geralt watched him through half-lidded eyes. It made Jaskier laugh. “Go to sleep, old man.”

Geralt frowned at him, then clenched hard, making Jaskier gasp.

“You—” Jaskier hissed, “are lucky you’re pretty.”

Geralt closed his eyes, smug, and nestled himself against Jaskier, kneading at the blankets.

“Sleep,” Jaskier murmured. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Geralt’s scent spiked with lust. “Gather your strength,” he mumbled sleepily. “You’ll need it.”

#mywriting #smut directly under the cut lmao #geraskier fanfic #a/b/o geraskier #geraskier smut #geralt x jaskier