#I know we like their meeting nowadays but it always strikes me as something that must have been terrifying | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ev-pierce-writes · 3 years

Text

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin. He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr

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herrlindemann · 3 years

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Till Lindemann interview with Playboy, January 2006

Another interview from the archives. Till talks about Rammstein, writing, fire, his life at the time of the GDR, his personal life,...

Playboy : Is Rammstein art?

Till : There are moments in this band that have become art, that have been immortalized. In general, I would say: We make light music.

PLAYBOY: Was that planned?

Till : In the beginning we just wanted to attract attention. With extreme lyrics and extreme music. It annoyed us that after the Wall came down, all the other East German bands sounded like American rock folk music. They copied everything, the sound, the hairstyles, the tattoos. We really wanted to kick these copycats in the face.

Playboy : Is your provocation calculated?

Till : What is provocation nowadays? In Eastern times it was provocative to walk around with a plastic bag that said 'Axel Springer Verlag'. Being provocative involves risking reprisals. Talking about provocation in the entertainment industry doesn't work.

PLAYBOY: But you understand that a song like 'Mein Teil', which is about the cannibal of Rothenburg, can be found provocative? You sing: 'Today I meet a gentleman/He likes me to eat/Soft parts as well as hard/It's on the menu/Because you are what you eat/And you know what it is/It's my part.'

Till : We didn't come up with that, it all happened. We found it so incredible that a man roasts another man's penis and they eat the part together. The Pet Shop Boys, who by the way remixed the title for us, seem to have really liked the song.

Playboy: Rammstein has been the most successful German band at home and abroad for years. Which nerve do you hit?

Till : We reveal feelings. Necrophiles and child molester do not exist in the mainstream songs. We write about it, that upsets many. And at the same time it excites them.

PLAYBOY: Particularly disturbing is that you mostly sing about these topics in the first person. Why?

Till : It's more direct. That's the polarizing effect: I'm the cannibal, I'm the child molester. I think it would be cowardly to write it in the third person.

Playboy: Has your American shock counterpart, Marilyn Manson, ever visited you at your US concerts?

Till : We met him often, yes. Good guy. He lives his role wholeheartedly, is never without bodyguards and still feels like a rock star when he's showering. This is his curse too. I take off my pants after the concert and that's it.

PLAYBOY: Talking to you, it's striking that you have a surprisingly soft voice, quite unlike your deep organ voice on the records.

Till : That's my normal baritone voice, when I sing I push my voice with force from below. I’m not a professional. There's no technic involved.

Playboy: Deep vocals and rolling 'Rrrrr' — is that why Rammstein sounds so harsch?

Till : Maybe. I sing on instinct. It's a deep feeling — singing out about something bad, rough, what's buried deep in the soul. You process your life, a little bit like therapy.

Playboy : The audience too?

Till : I firmly believe that our music and our concerts are good for the soul. We get a lot of mail saying we're the only band that addresses issues like violence and incest. People write to us that they have experienced something like this and are grateful that these songs exist. In the meantime, women often write, too. That wasn't the case at all in the beginning. It used to be more of a men's sauna that we organized. Today, half of our concert-goers are women.

Playboy: Rammstein as a replacement for therapy?

Till : There are many aspects. We're also just the heavier David Copperfield show. Fathers come to us with their children to see great fireworks.

Playboy: Were Rammstein concerts always with pyrotechnics?

Till : Yes, right from the start, even in the smallest clubs. At that time we released a gas mixture from a Coke bottle in the hall and let it explode. The whole room burned for a moment.

Playboy : Is fire your passion?

Till : Not at all, but I hated being watched on stage. I used to stand glued to the mic during guitar solos. I figured I have to do something or I'll die of loneliness and boredom. Luckily a friend of mine was a pyrotechnician.

PLAYBOY: You stand on fire on stage. How dangerous is that?

Till: I once burned my leg because the inside of my trousers caught fire. My coat is now so well insulated that nothing happens. It consists of a protective shield made of metal sheets and three centimeters of thick insulating fabric. I can easily be on fire with this for four minutes before it burns out. After that I'm full of adrenaline. And I feel great.

Playboy: Where's the line?

Till : Once the fans really thought I was on fire: we staged an accident that burned my leg. Flake came with the fire extinguisher, but it contained flammable powder. I was on fire, the music stopped, the hall lights came on. I rolled on the ground and helpers came with real fire extinguishers. We did that at 20 concerts, then we had to stop because the fans thought it was too much and complained on the internet. They were really shocked.

PLAYBOY: Would you like to invent a Welden effect for the stage?

Till : Continuous rain. It's so cool to play in the rain, we did it for a video, but it's unthinkable on stage. You'll die of electrocution.

PLAYBOY: Why are you so martial on stage?

Till : If we were playing hippie music, we would wear flared pants and sunflower shirts. With our stage outfit we built a framework for the picture that we are painting. This also includes the war paint and the naked upper body. 'OF' is what we call it, shirtless. We ask each other in the dressing room before the concerts: are you doing OF today? Nah, I've gotten too fat, maybe next week.

Playboy: What was your weirdest outfit?

Till : We wore it to a shabby little club when we did our three first shows in New York. The thing was jam-packed, and we played OF and in traditional Lederhosen.

Playboy: Not afraid to use German folklore clichés?

Till : Sure. Over there Germany is Mercedes, Sauerkraut and Lederhosen. After the concert two black guys came to us, hip hoppers, and said: We hate this metal shit, but you guys are cool.

PLAYBOY: Have you ever performed under drugs?

Till : Used to be constant. We've tried everything except injections. From smoking weed to cocaine. It was a competition: how extreme is this band? Pure showmanship.

Playboy : Why did you quit?

Till : For one thing, the shows have gotten too big. On the other hand, my body gave me a warning. When I was recording in Sweden I couldn't take two flights of stairs because I was so full of cigarettes, alcohol and coke. A small white flag came out and told me : If I continue like this, I will experience some problems.

Playboy: In the meantime, Rammstein even has famous supporters like Heino.

Till : Yes, he recently came out as a Rammstein fan. He liked our hiking video ‘Ohne ‘Dich. Udo Jürgens approached us at the Echo Awards and wanted to take a photo with us because he thinks we're great, he said. But who knows who will shake our hands tomorrow when the success is over.

Playboy: Do you want to be loved?

Till : At all costs. Anyone who says no is lying.

Playboy: People seem to love you more abroad than in Germany.

Till : Acceptance is much higher there. It's incredible when 20,000 French sing along to our lyrics in German in Paris-Bercy, the most legendary hall in France. In German! Where the French otherwise refuse to speak any foreign language. If I may put it that way: we are pioneers of Franco-German friendship.

Playboy: Because the French sing 'Bück Disch' to the song 'Bück Dich'?

Till : Exactly. That's wonderful. In Mexico they even sing along to the whole song, not just the choruses. Every line in perfect German. Despite the gringo hatred there, despite their refusal to progress. I love the Mexicans.

Playboy: Your new song 'Benzin' and the video show self-ironic traits for the first time.

Till : It doesn't have much to do with irony, the thirst for petrol stands for the desire for a lot of things. But it's true: we're making too many funny videos at the moment. It's time to sail the dark waters again.

Playboy: How do you write your lyrics?

Till : In absolute silence. view of nature. Laptop. The music always comes first, and I think about what goes with it. This song might have something to do with water. Or with a lousy guy hanging around in front of a kindergarten.

Playboy: On your new album 'Rosenrot' there is also a song about gays, 'Mann gegen Mann' ». You will probably soon be accused of homophobia. Or?

Till : Possibly. My impulse was completely different: envy of the boys who just wink at each other in the pub and pick each other up without the whole quark with flowers and three dates before you can get to it. They have it easier than heteros. The gays look at each other and have fast, good sex. I have a vague hope that it will become an anthem in gay clubs.

Playboy: For your video 'Stripped' you used scenes from Leni Riefenstahl's Olympia films. Would you still do that today?

Till : No. Because I'm tired of hearing that we're a right-wing band. My daughter - the dearest thing I have - came to me at the time and asked: Tell me, do you play in a Nazi band? That was a point where I said to myself, we've crossed a line. That was too much.

Playboy: Is your daughter your only child?

Till : I have many children.

Playboy: By how many women?

Till : Many.

Playboy: Why have these relationships always failed?

Till : The feeling wasn't there because I wasn't willing to commit myself. I have always been dumped and was completely appalled by it. I realized every time: Actually, she's right. The only good thing that came out of it was whenever one went, the pain triggered an incredible creative boost.

Playboy: Were you faithful?

Till : Never. I always thought I had to fuck, in case bad times come. It was a quite a mingle of one-night stands and affairs.

Playboy: So you are still single today?

Till : I met a woman I want to grow old with. Ever since I've known her, I haven't felt the need to hang around.

Playboy: Bad for the creative spurts.

Till : I think I kept a dark little room in the back of my soul. I can settle into the abysses quickly if I need to.

Playboy: Then what do you remember?

Till : The longing for death. I used to be completely indifferent to a lot of things. I thought I wouldn’t reach the age of 50. But now, with this woman, that has changed. I'm a really lucky man. I now wish to get old.

Playboy: You are 42 years old. how old is your girlfriend ?

Till : 28. I couldn't imagine living with a woman the same age.

Playboy: You almost competed as a swimmer for East Germany at the 1980 Olympic Games in Moscow. Is it true that you got kicked out because you sneaked out of the hotel at a competition in Florence?

Till : I didn't want to flee, I wanted to see the city. The cars, the bikes, the girls. I got caught, that was one reason for being kicked out, but I didn't perform well enough either.

Playboy: Was it bad?

Till : It was terrible. Before that, I swam up to 30 kilometers a day, got up at five in the morning and went to bed dead tired at night. Suddenly I had free time and was standing around in the prefab district and had to fight to be accepted. And drinking a lot of schnapps, that counted for something.

Playboy: What do you feel when you think of the GDR?

Till : Up until the day everyone left and took off, I had a very warm feeling. It was really bearable. As a punk band we were allowed to play with a state license, and although there were Stasi people in the audience, there were never any problems. The horror of the GDR only came later, when I realized what had happened.

Playboy: Not yet in GDR times?

Till : Of course you noticed, at the latest when you did an apprenticeship, that a lot of it was lies and deceit. For example, when the entire production of a factory was immediately thrown onto the heap. Those were employment programs. Today it is called ABM (Arbeitsbeschäftigungsmaßnahme).

Playboy: Do you miss the GDR?

Till : No. But the way people treated each other was warmer. Who still meets at home these days? The restaurant used to close at ten and then you went to friends. There was a lot of closeness. That's dead today.

Playboy: Have you never been watched by friends for the Stasi?

Till : Yes. Partly from people who were very close to me. It was a shock, but I make a very clear distinction between who caused existential damage and who just submitted irrelevant reports. And I differentiate according to the motives: Who wanted to get an advantage as an IM and who was forced to cooperate by the Stasi with threats.

Playboy: Are you for the demolition of the Berlin Palace of the Republic?

Till : I would leave him there. I think it's like a kidney stone. You keep it because it somehow belongs to you, even if it hurt.

Playboy: Where did you collect your welcome money in 1989?

Till : At Lübeck on the border. And then I went to an Edeka (German supermarket) and bought sweets, gummies, Bärchen, and yoghurt gums. I said to myself: Now I'll eat until I burst. Previously, a bag of Haribo from the shop had to last a whole year.

Playboy: Would you like to play in small clubs again?

Till : No, I don't want to drive a Trabant again either. I enjoy my car's electronic windows, even if none of that is necessary.

Playboy: What car do you drive?

Till : An off-roader, it's very practical because I live in the country. Between Schwerin and Wismar. That's my home. Totally boring there. After ten years of touring the world, it's the best thing that can happen to me. I no longer like staying in big cities for more than three days.

Playboy: How big is your village?

Till : Twelve houses. My cottage has a small fishing pond and a beautiful view of the nature reserve with gray herons. Fantastic.

Playboy: Will Rammstein, like the Stones, still be on stage at the age of 60?

Till : I believe that it will end sooner or later. With a concert in the Berlin Olympic Stadium.

Playboy: The band has six months off in early 2006. What are you going to do during that time?

Till : I'm flying to Costa Rica with my girlfriend, so we'll buy a car and drive around South America. I did survival training with her in the jungle. How to drink water from lianas and feed on lemon ants.

Playboy : How do they taste?

Till : Great. Like lime pie.

#Till Lindemann #Rammstein #Interview #translation #2006 #*#*scans

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babyboibucky · 4 years

Text

Charming (Part 2 of Charm)

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything planned out for his date with you.

Word Count: 2,566

Warnings: No TFATWS spoilers here, Bucky being charming (hence the title) is a warning in itself

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for all the love for Charm! I didn’t expect for that oneshot to receive so much love from everyone. Can’t thank y’all enough!!! For those who haven’t read it yet, make sure to do so before reading this!

Charm (Part 1) || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky nervously waited outside of your apartment building. He made sure to plan really well for this date, he didn’t want to mess up. He really liked talking to you and he wanted you to enjoy this day.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announced as you stepped out of the building, jogging downstairs to approach him.

You looked excited, Bucky noticed. Okay, that’s good. He’s off to a good start. He found himself smiling at you, admiring this light and bright aura that radiated off of you. He could use a little light in his life and it might be too soon for Bucky to even consider it, but you seemed like the perfect girl to him.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted. “You look beautiful.” He said, eyeing you from head to toe.

Bucky’s confidence grew when your cheeks turned pink at his compliment. You thanked him and let your eyes fall to his left arm, making Bucky instantly regret his decision to forego the gloves. He should’ve worn his jacket on top of his blue henley. All his worries though eventually dissipated when you reassured him.

“Glad you aren’t wearing your gloves, it looked really uncomfortable.” You told him genuinely.

Bucky shyly let out a chuckle, “Yeah.”

“So, to the park?” You asked excitedly.

Bucky made a face, “Actually, I thought of changing our plans a bit. Hope that’s alright?” He asked hopefully.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you nodded, “Hmm, that sounds interesting. Alright then, what do you got?”

Embarrassment filled Bucky’s entire being when he whipped out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He glanced at you and watched your expression as he unfolded it, revealing it to be the size of a bond paper where he had written down his agenda for the day.

“Oh wow, that’s...very interesting.” You pointed out but with no malice. In fact, you were impressed.

Who would’ve thought that guys nowadays came to a date prepared? But then again, Bucky wasn’t from this time but truly appreciated how old-fashioned he still was.

Bucky rubbed his neck, “I made an itinerary but saying that out loud, it actually sounds terrible.”

“Not at all!” You were quick to defend. “I like a well-planned day. I’m not really the spontaneous type so this really works well for me.” You chuckled.

Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide. It seemed like the date would go pretty well, he hoped it’d last the entire day though. He couldn’t help but worry that something might happen that would throw you off. Or that he might end up saying things that you’d find offensive.

“What’s first on the itinerary?” You asked.

“I got a strike!” You squealed in excitement and pumped your first in the air.

Bucky took you to a bowling place and honestly, he didn’t expect for you to be so excited about it. He felt silly for outdoing himself for this first date. In fact, he researched about dating in the modern day the moment he got home after meeting you. The tips were very different, some of which he wasn’t comfortable doing. So instead of adjusting to the present, Bucky stayed true to himself.

He was going to do it his own way, no matter how traditional it seemed. This led him to writing down his ideas on a piece of paper and planning everything out properly.

“Looks like I won.” You smirked, seeing the scores flash on the television hanging on the ceiling. “Did you go easy on me? Tell me the truth, Bucky.” You warned as you looked at him suspiciously.

Bucky chortled and shook his head, “I didn’t. It’s been decades since the last time I did this so I got pretty rusty at it.” He explained.

“You ready to grab something to eat?” He asked, checking the time and seeing that it was close to three in the afternoon.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’m starving! I mean, beating a super soldier at bowling can be really exhausting.” You teased.

Bucky smiled, “Great, but can we stop by somewhere first?”

Bucky felt proud at himself when he saw the astonished look in your face.

“Oh my god, is this...?” You asked, eyeing the car that Bucky drove out of a car rental shop.

“A 1942 Pontiac Torpedo.” Bucky boasted before stepping out of the car and leading you towards the front seat.

Bucky waited for you to slip in, your expression still that of utter disbelief, before closing the door and walking around to ride back inside.

“And it’s the convertible one.” He said proudly and laughed at your reaction when he brought down the roof.

“I have no words for this, Bucky. This is amazing!” You exclaimed, running your hands on the compartment and just taking in the beautiful interiors of the vintage car.

Bucky watched you with a soft look in his eyes. He felt kind of selfish for gloating at the fact that this date only proved to himself that he still is James Buchanan Barnes. Despite decades of torture and brainwashing as the Winter Soldier, he still had pieces of himself left.

But seeing you so giddy at the date that he poured so much effort in? Maybe he wasn’t so selfish after all.

“And where will you be taking us next for you to rent this lovely vehicle? I honestly don’t know what to expect after this. I’m just...I love it!” You laughed, unable to hide your excitement.

“We’re having burgers and milkshakes.” Bucky announced.

Bucky wanted you to experience what it was like dating in his time, so it was only right that he took you to a diner. But it wasn’t just the regular one, he took you to a drive-in diner where waitresses even wore roller derby skates.

“You just keep on outdoing yourself, Bucky. I’m speechless!” You laughed.

The waitress rolled by your car and took your orders. After she left, there was finally a moment of peace which allowed you and Bucky to have an actual conversation.

“Did you often hang out in one of these places then?” You asked.

Bucky smiled at the memories, “Yeah, used to take Steve with me. He always ended up getting mad whenever he realized that it was a set-up for a double date.”

You hummed in amusement. “You seemed really popular with the ladies, huh?”

Bucky chuckled timidly before letting out a sigh. He turned to you curiously and creased his forehead, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” He finally asked.

You seemed surprised at his question but your features softened up almost immediately. Shrugging as if it was no big deal, you told him that you really didn’t feel the need to do so.

“Would it change anything if I told you I knew who you were?” You curiously asked.

Bucky thought for a brief moment, “I probably would’ve excused myself and left.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said. “You seemed comfortable then, I didn’t want to overwhelm you by bringing it up. Besides, I really don’t care about it. I mean, I had fun talking to you and that’s all that matters to me. Superhero or not, I do enjoy your company.”

Bucky snickered, “I don’t think superhero is the right word.”

“You’ll be surprised that a lot of people call you that.” You said, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm, squeezing it to offer him comfort.

Bucky loosened up at your touch and kept his gaze lingering on how your fingers were wrapped around his arm.

“There’s this one kid at the orphanage I volunteer at,” you said, letting go of Bucky’s arm as you adjusted your position in the car so you could turn to him. Bucky almost missed the warmth from your hand on his skin.

“I asked them to draw someone they looked up to and this is his work.” You said, bringing out your phone to show Bucky a photo of the drawing.

Bucky’s breath hitched when you handed him your phone, revealing that the kid drew a man with long brown hair and a metal arm. He used black and gold to color the metal arm, not silver. It didn’t even have the red star on it. When Bucky looked up at you, he saw the most genuine smile he had ever seen.

“I asked him why he chose you and he said that he liked how Captain America’s best friend fought alongside him. For a kid his age, he knew a lot about your history too. He’s a huge fan.” You laughed.

Bucky’s eyes almost brimmed with tears. He was unable to believe that a kid would look up to him, consider him a superhero. All this time he had been seeing himself as a villain still, the bad guy. Someone who would have a hard time redeeming himself. You made him think twice about it, that maybe he had been too harsh on himself.

“You should come with me to the orphanage some time. The kids will love you, Bucky. It’s not that hard to do so.” You said softly, lifting your hand up to fix a strand of Bucky’s hair that was out of place.

It was a beautiful moment between the two of you. Bucky felt vulnerable but safe, like you’d keep him safe. Not from danger but from his very own destructive thoughts. Whenever he loses control of his mind, whenever it wanders into the darkest parts of his past, Bucky tends to self-destruct. And he almost wandered there but you were quick to pull him back to the surface.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked when you noticed that Bucky was just staring at you.

Bucky’s gaze fell onto your lips and then back at your eyes, “Thinking about whether I should just go for it now.”

“Go for what?” You blinked.

Bucky slowly leaned in but was immediately startled when the waitress arrived with your orders.

After the diner, Bucky drove to the park where the two of you walked around while talking about well, anything. He learned more about you and this time, he didn’t have to lie about anything whenever you asked him. In fact, Bucky got really comfortable opening up about his life in the 40’s, he even talked about his family.

The two of you talked more until the sun set and the next thing you knew was that Bucky brought you to a drive-in theater and bought pizza to cap off the date.

It was a little past ten in the evening when Bucky drove you home. He opened the car door for you and nervously fidgeted with the piece of paper in his back pocket.

“So did you tick off everything on the itinerary?” You asked.

Bucky let out the fakest laugh because no, he hasn’t ticked off everything on his list. There was one more thing that he planned to do at the very end of the date. He had been confident about it, especially after how much you enjoyed the date in its entirety. But, now standing outside your apartment building and staring at you nervously, he wasn’t sure whether he had enough courage to pull this off.

“I uhh...well...” Bucky stammered. “Did you enjoy?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“I am offended that you had to ask because I thought my face was unable to hide at how much I did!” You laughed.

“Thank you for giving me the 1940s experience. I love it. I really do, it’s...it’s been a while since I last went on a date that I really enjoyed.” You shyly admitted, biting your lip and looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat as he gazed down at you. You looked really beautiful, no matter how simple you looked. He wanted to take you out to another date, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day perhaps, actually, Bucky wanted to be with you every single day.

You were so kind and bubbly, you offered so much light to his darkness. He loved how your hopeful attitude rubbed off on him, he badly needed it. And he loved how you made him feel...himself. He was just Bucky Barnes, a guy navigating through the modern times and finding his place in this world. And it would seem like an easy task with you by his side.

“Well, I guess this is it.” You said. “Thanks again, Bucky. I really did enjoy.”

Bucky was surprised when you stepped closer to him for a hug. Feeling your arms wrap around his waist and your hair brush against his chin gave him the boost of confidence he needed to finally check off the last on his date itinerary.

By the time he convinced himself to do it, you already stepped back and bid Bucky good night.

Bucky proved to himself the other night that he still has his charm from back then. And tonight, he was going to prove that his charm was going to sweep you off of your feet.

“Wait, one last thing.” Bucky said, reaching out for your wrist.

He tugged you forward making you squeal, and then wrapped his metal arm around your waist before swooping you down for a kiss.

Bucky wasn’t sure how you would react to his kiss but he could no longer hold himself back. It could either make or break his friendship with you, but Bucky just had to. And it wasn’t just to prove something to himself, he’d been wanting to kiss you all throughout the day. He would have already, at the diner, if only the waitress didn’t interrupt his little moment with you.

He almost panicked when your lips remained still, but it all went away when he felt your hands wrap around his shoulders before finally kissing him back. Bucky’s lips curled into a smile against yours as he slowly straightened, bringing you back up before pulling away.

You panted against his lips, your hands sliding down to rest on Bucky’s chest as his landed on your hips.

“Was that...was that a part of your list?” You breathlessly asked.

“Yes. Almost went for it at the diner but I guess the universe wanted for me to stick to the schedule.” He grinned.

You threw your head back in laughter, “So that’s what you meant by that!”

Bucky laughed in agreement and held your face in his metal hand, noticing how you weren’t thrown off. Instead, you turned your face to even press a kiss on his palm.

“Was I too fast? Kissing you on the first date?” He asked, caressing your face.

You shook your head, “You did wait until the end of the date to do so, I guess your timing was just right.”

“And...how was it?” Bucky meekly asked, almost afraid that he might have sucked given that this was his first kiss in decades.

Smiling, you leaned in again to give him a quick peck on the lips. A reassurance, something to melt Bucky’s worries away.

“What can I say? James Bucky Barnes, you are one charming man.”

Now, Bucky was a hundred percent sure that he still has it in him. And he made a mental note to boast to Yori how his first date with you went.

Everything Bucky Tag List:

@ddowii @jessou893 @stealapizzamyheart @bagelofthelord @mxnt @dontputyourfckingdrinkonmytable @jeeperky @ohladymacbeth @wildflowergubler @supraveng @twinerd14 @buckysmar @bakugouswh0r3 @sweetcoldharmony @wintersfilm @charminivy @amelia-song-pond @iamvalentinaconstanza @mcubqrnes @i’m-squished @tcc-gizmachine @sipsteacasually @tcc-gizmachine @prettyintopeerpressure @weloveyasmin @est19xxshit @bloodhon3yx @dressed-in-prada @lizette50 @thatfangirl42

Some tags aren’t walking ugh I’m so sorry to all those that tumblr failed to tag!

#bbbwrites #oneshots: bucky barnes #tfatws #tfatws spoilers #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes fluff #bucky fluff

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illusionsofdreaming · 3 years

Note

would it be okay to request headcanons with the main trio from TCF who aren't in a relationship with the (fem) reader yet but they like each other, the guys get hurt or something and the reader is so scared of losing them or was so anxious that she ended up kissing them? You can edit a few parts if you'd prefer! thank you, i know you have a lot of requests but you're the only one who writes x reader for them-

Notes: It took forever+forever but I finally gave up trying to perfect it- y'all just going to have to deal with these half baked potatos as I sob in the corner for my lack of functioning writing braincells.

+ 'nonny I know you asked for Fem reader but I'm just so used to writing gender neutral nowadays I actually forgot to write Fem reader in. Uh. I mean it's gender neutral so it should work regardless?? I'msorrypleaseforgivemeforthisblunder

Ft: Cale, Alberu, Choi Han

Cale Henituse

He’s covered in blood.

Again.

He glanced down at his shirt, once white, now completely soaked and rapidly losing warmth. The icky feeling of sticky cloth stuck on skin caused goosebumps to break out all over his arms. The lethargy that weighed on him was hard to ignore, but expected after using his ancient powers-

“Cale!”

He turned just as the full force of you barrelled into him and he staggered, unbalanced and would’ve fallen had you not pulled him back. He barely had time to protest at your rough greeting when you began frantically patting him down as if scouring him for weapons.

“There’s so much- where are you hurt?” you demanded harshly, your tone pitched higher than normal. “Raon call for Saint Jack and the others, medics- anyone that can help!”

“Y-yes! I-I will! Weak hu-human you better not die or I will destroy the kingdom!”

“Wai-“ his protests were ignored as the dragon flew off, leaving Cale dumbfounded with his jaw hanging down in disbelief. “Wait you don’t have to find the others, I’m fi-“

“Cale Henituse, if I hear you say ‘I’m fine’ I’m going to sock you to kingdom fucking come.“ you seethed. His lips snapped shut obediently, swallowing the aforementioned phrase down as a foreboding chill crept down his spine.

But I am..?

“How could you..” your voice shook even as you clung onto his soaked shirt so tightly your knuckles turned white. “You’re always doing stupid things like this…”

Cale frowned, feeling a bit indignant. Sure his plans weren’t the most thought out at times, but to call them stupid…

“If you waited for us to come, then you wouldn’t have to- why do you keep sacrificing yourself like this?”

That triggered an alarm in his head. What strange things were you talking about? The act of sacrifice were done by martyrs and selfless heroes and Cale Henituse was neither of those. He wanted to correct your misunderstanding but you were worked up and hysterical and it was with horror that he realised you were crying.

“________-“

“Don’t talk! Please, just conserve your energy- I won’t let you die, I promised the kids and the others- I won’t let you-”

The alarm bells in his head rang even louder and he fought to be heard over your rambling, “_________- no one’s dying, I’m fine-” it felt as if his heart had leapt to his throat as he stopped your fist before it could make contact. You really weren’t joking when you said you’d punch him. He tightened his hold on your wrist when you tried to twist out of his grip and swallowed nervously. “I’m not hurt _________,“ he emphasised, willing you to meet his eyes.

“Stop bullshitting me Cale- how much of a fucking idiot do you take me for? How can anyone be fine after losing this much blood-“

“It’s not mine.”

You stilled in his grasp.

“…W-what?”

He frowned. Was it really that hard to believe his words? “The blood’s not mine.” he repeated and made sure to meet your disbelieving gaze head on so that you could verify the truth in his words. “They were cut down before they could harm me. None of this blood is mine. I was not hurt.“ It was a partial lie. He did cough out some blood after instinctively activating the shield for protection but he felt that that was knowledge you’d be better off not knowing.

The coiled tension in you leaked out and Cale slowly released his grip on your hand and took a cautious step back - just in case. It was a good thing he managed to deescalate the situation before the others arrived. Just convincing one person was hassle enough and from experience alone, he knew the others weren’t as merciful when it came to learning about his injuries, regardless of severity or his protests otherwise. Cale shuddered. He really didn’t want to be on the receiving end of Ron’s cold smile again. He glanced up and saw Raon’s flying figure and he waved lazily to the dragon hoping the young one would understand that the healers were no longer necessary, it had only been a false alarm.

“..ot.”

“Hm?” He looked down, hearing you mumble but didn’t quite catch what you’d said.

He was not prepared to be yanked forward and for your lips to mash against his. There was a brief sting where your teeth had caught on his lip and the uncomfortable sensation of having your teeth clack against each other, noses in the way. He froze, like a deer caught in headlights, thoughts reeling but before he could think of acting, to push or pull you in even closer-

You let him go just as abruptly and he staggered, breath stolen, mind in absolute disarray.

Then you slapped him. Which definitely cleared his thoughts. “You idiot!”

Stupefied, he watched as you stormed off, stuck in a daze as he cradled his face where his cheek and lips tingled for different reasons.

“…What..?”

Choi Han

Choi Han didn’t know what Cale saw in you back then, a complete stranger whom they saved by chance and nursed back to health with utmost care. You, who Cale insisted was the final key to their masterplan and then asked Choi Han to act as your escort.

There were many things Choi Han didn’t understand when it came to Cale-nim’s decisions. But that wasn’t so unusual and he’d never made it a habit to question Cale’s reasoning, having learned to be patient, knowing the pieces would eventually slot together in the grand picture. So although initially wary he was of your unclear history and affiliation, he stayed by your side and did his duty without question.

And perhaps after weeks of accompanying you, he’s beginning to see what Cale saw. Though powerless and weak, you were righteous and passionate, holding true to your belief even in the face of adversaries. You were the perfect replacement for the tyrannical ruler of the country, someone capable of salvaging the crumbling system of a neglected, abused society and lifting it to new heights and glory.

With the flames of revolution ignited, everything hinged on getting you safely to Cale on the final stage. While the revolutionaries fought and acted as distractions above ground, he escorted you through the abandoned waterways.

The undergrounds were dark and cramped, incredibly disadvantageous to a swordsman such as himself. When assassins leaped out in an ambush; Choi Han didn’t hesitate. Without time nor space to draw his sword, he pushed you behind him and raised his arm to block the strike.

As the momentum of the assassin’s blade stopped, it became simple matter to quickly disarm and finish them. Having checked and affirmed that there’s no forthcoming attacks, he urged you to hurry, now worried as they weren’t expected to be discovered so soon.

Something must’ve happened, we should hurry to Cale-nim’s side-

He was halted with a firm grip on his other hand and was pulled back as he was met with your stern, unwavering gaze and declaration that you will not move another step from this spot until his arm got treated first.

Which was a ridiculous request considering they were running on a tight schedule. He frowned and his fingers flexed against the hilt of his sword as you pulled him to the side.

When none of his objections were being heard, he tried reasoning with you. The wound may look horrible, but he’d assured you he’d angled his arm just so that the blade would’ve caught on his bone rather than tendons. It was a strategic move that not only blocked momentum but also kept damage to his non-dominant arm at the minimum. He would not have bled to death nor would he be crippled from it, something that barely needed the emergency care you insisted on.

“It’s not necessary, we need to get to the tower room first.”

“The room is not moving anywhere, I’d rather not risk having you develop an infection because you neglected to care for your wound.“

He flinched when alcohol was poured on the cut and Choi Han breathed out slowly, his frustration mounting as precious seconds passed. Something in his chest stirred uncomfortably. He’s not accustomed to having others care for his wounds, having spent so many years caring for them himself whilst hiding his weaknesses from monsters in the Forest of Darkness.

“I will attend to it after I’ve brought you to Master Cale’s side, we must-“

Your eyes flashed with anger as your grip tightened painfully around his arm. “So many things have been lost to reach this stage, I’d rather not lose more on the way there.”

“Cale-“

Perhaps you’ve had enough as well as the next thing he knew, your fingers dug into his arm and he found himself yanked forward and you pressing a hard, determined kiss that stole whatever he was going to say from his lips.

“Cale Henituse,” you said sternly when you parted and picked up a roll of bandages, “can afford to wait a bit longer.” you glared at him as if daring him to argue otherwise.

Not that it was necessary, considering he’d doubt he’d have the coherency to answer anything with the way all the blood in his body was rushing to his face.

Alberu Crossman

He didn’t feel anything upon the moment of impact. Only the shocking cold of metal being slid into his side and the vicious gaze of the perpetrator pressed up to his front.

The pain ripped through a moment later and he gritted his teeth, red spilling down his lips. It hurts.

Activity bursted around him, screams of fear echoed through the ballroom as guards rushed to his side. However one voice in particular caught his attention and he looked up to catch your horrified expression, lips parted in a desperate cry.

His forehead furrowed as a strange sense of guilt washed over him- he didn’t want you to see this- but he didn’t have time to explore the feeling as his hand latched firmly on the hand which still held the weapon in his side, preventing their escape.

His smile was red, “Caught you now, rat.”

═════☩══♛══☩═════

He tousled his hair dry with a towel as he read through the reports in his hand.

Alberu was exhausted, the fight to rid his side of his enemies’ spies had always been an ongoing and tedious project. His enemies were cunning and always played things safe however their impatience this time would cost them. Now that one of their own has fallen into his hands, they can start pulling in the net.

A knock sounded on his door and he didn’t bother looking up from his reports as he gave permission. “Come in.”

“Did you manage to find any new information from them?” he asked immediately as the door opened. Anything gleaned from the assassin would be beneficial to his cause. Not that he truly expected any confessions to be given this night. Any hired killer worth their salt would know not to betray the mastermind behind a hit. But there were more than one way to find credible information aside from words torn directly from the lips of a captive.

When no answer came, he looked up and immediately dropped the papers he was reading.

“___________…”

In the aftermath of the attack and the capture of the assassin he’d been immediately escorted to the healers for first aid. With the bare minimum done he’d left quickly to take control of the situation, calming the aristocrats and giving orders to assign all guests to be escorted to a room in the palace to rest from the unexpected development - the smarter ones would know this was just a way to keep all suspects in one place, stalling for time so that his trusted aides may work to narrow down the most likely suspects. He had been meaning to find you and explain once everything settled but this time you took matters into your own hands.

Your eyes glanced at the documents he dropped. “Am I disturbing your work?”

“No,” he replied instantly, fighting back the urge to shuffle the papers behind him. “No, you’re not.”

The room lapsed into silence once more as neither of you seemed keen to address the elephant in the room.

“About tonight…” he started slowly, “they had to believe I had my guards lowered.”

The truth was, though he believed you would not have been behind the attack, you had to be tested all the same. Should it be known you’ve been partial to this plan, it would’ve given the real culprits leverage to use.

You approached him and he wished you would say something. He noted the redness in your eyes and felt a stab of guilt lodge in his chest. “It had to be believable.”

You didn’t meet his eyes and your hand hovered over where his wound had been.

He lifted the edge of his shirt up to reveal the pink scar tissue underneath. It was ugly and badly healed due to the rush he had been in. “I wasn’t in any real danger.” he said softly, staying still and resisting the urge to shiver when your fingers traced the scar.

“You’re picking up bad habits from Cale.” You said so softly he would’ve missed it had he not been paying attention.

“The padded shirt under prevented the blade from going too deep.” he explained, hoping you’d understand that he hadn’t been reckless. Everything had been planned carefully. He slowly tucked his shirt back in as you withdrew your hand, already missing the warmth you brought to his skin just moments ago.

“__________…”

You leaned in and placed a small kiss on the corner of his mouth. “Don’t do that again.” you whispered against his cheek.

He could only watch in astonishment as you turned away and exited his room.

“..Okay..” he said hoarsely to the empty room.

#tcf #trash of the count's family #imagines #tcf x reader #cale henituse #alberu crossman #choi han #kiss #pre relationship #confession..?#i honestly don't have enough brain power to tag things rn #i also have not proofread this much so #it's A MESS #i'll come back to edit this when I'm more awake or something #ngl the whole time while i was struggling with this #i was thinking how ridiculous that i've spent so long agonising over writing with words #but consuming it would only take less than a minute LOL #now im back at 0 and im feeling a bit sad

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anabsolutetrainwreck · 3 years

Text

tongue-tied like we’ve never known || h. styles

warnings: dad!harry, swearing, not really proofread

word count: 2.3k

summary: two single parents try to start their lives again...

Mornings were always the worst for you. Trying to pry Tommy out of bed, and even yourself for that matter, was always an incredibly stressful task. But you’d learned to live with it and quickly come to accept it. After all, he was only young now. He’d be old soon enough and you knew you’d miss these youthful years.

You stood by the school gates, waiting for little Tommy to come bounding out of school to tell you all about his latest adventure. You always looked forward to hearing how his day went. As small children scrambled out of the doors after their teachers and straight into the arms of their parents, your eyes fell onto Tommy. He was with a boy you didn’t recognise. “Look, look! Meet my new friend,” Tommy grinned as he stood before you excitedly. “This is my mum.”

“Hello,” the little boy, dark-haired with perhaps the most striking green eyes, smiled. “I’m Oscar.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Oscar,” you smiled. “Are you new?”

The boy nodded, his cheeks flushed slightly. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that Tommy had made a new friend. He’d been kind to the new kid and offered him a form of friendship.

You were tugged away from your thoughts as you heard a voice behind you. You quickly turned to see a man, a little taller than yourself. You figured this was Oscar’s father from the dark hair to the green eyes. “There you are,” he smiled warmly and it seemed to make your heart flutter, as if he was smiling at you.

“Daddy, this is my new friend, Tommy,” Oscar grinned excitedly.

For the first time, the man shifted his gaze from the two young boys to you. Your stomach lurched as you made eye contact with him. “You must be Tommy’s mum,” he said, extending his hand for you to shake. “I’m Harry.”

“Y/N,” you smiled, shaking it gently. You hadn’t felt like this since you first met Tommy’s dad. It was all of eight years ago now on a night out with your university friends, most of whom you didn’t even speak to nowadays. He had been kind then and polite and the sort of man you’d always envisioned yourself marrying. So, you ended up getting together and everything seemed great for the first year and a half. But then things began to decline and you both seemed to lose trust in one another and you felt as if you were putting all of your energy into this relationship. It was killing you. But then you fell pregnant with his baby and he broke up with you anyway. You went back home to live with your own parents for a while before you eventually found a proper job and moved into your own house.

Anyway, you found yourself walking down the street, Tommy and Oscar running ahead slightly, with Harry. You had Tommy’s light bag clasped between your hands, listening to Harry tell you about Oscar. “And yeah,” he concluded, “we moved down here a couple of weeks ago, just the two of us.”

“What about Oscar’s mother?” you couldn’t help but find yourself prying.

Harry seemed to tense slightly, before shrugging, “She was never really around much. Her parents thought she should have gotten an abortion but she didn’t want one and had the baby anyway. So, they kicked her out and she left Oscar with me and moved to Dublin with her friends.”

“That’s shitty,” you sighed. “At least you have Oscar, though, right?”

He nodded, smiling, “Exactly. What about Tommy’s dad then?”

“He was a dick. He broke up with me a couple of months after I told him I was pregnant,” you replied.

“Yeah,” Harry chuckled, “sounds like a dick. Does he see Tommy then?”

You shook your head, your eyes caught between Harry’s and your son's lively figure running up and down the path ahead of you with Oscar. “No. He’s tried to reach out a couple of times but I haven’t let him see him. I just feel like introducing him to his dad six years later could just, you know, fuck it up. Besides, if he didn’t want to be with me through all the shitty, difficult stuff, then I don’t think he’s allowed to enjoy all the joys of being a parent.”

“Well,” he smiled, “good on you.”

And that was how you met Harry Styles. Over the weeks that followed, you would walk Oscar and Tommy to and from school with him. Tommy would spend time round at Harry’s and Oscar would spend time round at yours. And it felt like every time you saw Harry, you felt simultaneously more comfortable around him but more and more nervous.

But you hadn’t dated anybody since Tommy was born. Having a young child seemed to be a deterrent for a lot of people. Or maybe had more to do with the fact that you didn’t have time for a relationship between work and raising Tommy. Sure, you’d been on plenty of dates and it wasn’t as if you weren’t ready to get back into the world of dating and relationships. If not for yourself, for Tommy. You wanted him to have some kind of parental figure that wasn’t you.

You found it difficult to focus on the book you were reading when all you could hear was the two boys laughing loudly upstairs. Oscar was round for dinner and Harry was due to pick him up any minute. And as a knock at the front door finally snapped you into a new state of consciousness, you got up to answer it. Harry stood happily on the other side, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “Evening, Y/N,” he smiled.

“Evening, Harry,” you mocked. “Do come in.”

You opened the door wider, allowing the man to step into your home. You called down Oscar and Tommy, only to be met with groans. They appeared at the top of the stairs, their faces twisted into bitter scowls. “Why?” Tommy sighed. “Can he stay for a bit longer?”

You exchanged a glance with Harry, who shrugged. “Fifteen minutes,” you sighed. Really, all you wanted was to go to bed. They grinned and dashed back into Tommy’s small bedroom. You guided Harry into the kitchen, letting him sit himself down at the table. “Do you want a drink?” you asked.

“I’m okay, thanks,” he smiled.

You grinned, pouring yourself a glass of orange juice, “Suit yourself. So, how was your day?”

“Stressful,” he sighed. “Thanks for looking after Oscar.”

“Anytime,” you shrugged. “He’s delightful. Besides, you’ve looked after Tommy so many times, I kind of owed you.”

“Nonsense,” he laughed. “We’re not exchanging favours. We’re just… helping out a friend.”

You couldn’t help but let yourself deflate at ‘friend’. You had known all along that you were just two, young single parents that only knew each other through their six-year-old sons. But a tiny fragment of you hoped what was happening meant something more to Harry, like it did to you. There were instances of harmless flirting and subtle glances. “Right,” you nodded, forcing a soft smile. “Well, thanks for helping out a friend.”

His fingers drummed mindlessly on the table and your eyes wandered from their tips to the tattoos that peeked out of the cuff of his jacket. “Got any plans for tomorrow?” Harry asked and you almost cringed at the small talk.

But alas, you shrugged, “Not really. I have some work to catch up on, so an action packed day for me tomorrow. What about you?”

He shook his head, “I wish I had plans. Could go out for drinks or something, but I can’t because I have a needy six-year-old.”

“Treasure it while it’s still here,” you said.

“Believe me,” he grinned, “I am. God, I’m so scared for the day he just… stops needing me. You know, the day he just sort of realises that he no longer needs me to wash his clothes or walk him into town or buy him things. And it took me ages to get used to putting somebody before myself, I don’t think I could imagine living without him now. Like, one day he’ll go off to uni and get a job and only come home every other birthday or Christmas.”

You smiled gently. You were sure he’d never been so vulnerable with you before. “It’s weird to think that’s what we’re doing with our parents now. We fear the day our kids stop needing us, but our parents are living that day.”

He hummed in thought for a moment, “I should probably go see my mum soon. I haven’t seen her in months. And my sister.”

“You have a sister?”

He nodded, “Yeah. Gemma is her name. She’d love you.”

“I’m sure I’d love her if she’s anything like you,” you said.

You took a final gulp of your orange juice, your eyes beginning to feel heavy. You looked at the clock on the wall, noticing twenty minutes had passed since Harry arrived. “Right,” you smiled. “I’ll go get Oscar.”

And as you walked towards the kitchen door, Harry quickly said, “Wait!”

You turned back to look at him, your heart pounding heavily. All kinds of questions and hypotheticals raced through your mind as he paused for a moment. “Do you think you’ll ever meet somebody else, Y/N?” he asked.

“Meet somebody else?” you repeated, though you were sure you knew exactly what he meant.

“Yeah, you know… like somebody to replace Tommy’s dad. Somebody for you to settle down with and raise Tommy together. Do you think you’ll ever meet them?” he asked.

You were utterly confused as to what had prompted him to ask such a question. But you’d be lying if you said you couldn’t hear your heart in your temples or taste your blood in your mouth. “Maybe,” you shrugged. “Do you?”

“I hope so,” he said. “I’d like Oscar to have a mum.”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I think that would be great for him. I’ll go get him.”

That night as you lay alone in your bed, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to share your bed with Harry. To feel his body beside yours on cold nights. To be woken up by his lips peppering your face in light kisses in the morning. To discuss all the trivial things when neither of you can sleep at night. Maybe he was trying to tell you something that evening…

Oscar had become ill over that following weekend. Nothing too serious, but something that warranted a day or two off school. So, after you picked Tommy up from school, you drove to Harry’s to check if they were both okay. Tommy sat at the end of Oscar’s bed, recounting everything the young boy had missed at school, while you busied yourself in Harry’s kitchen. You were heating up some of the soup you had made for the poor boy. “You’re really too kind. You didn’t have to do this,” Harry told you as he made you a cup of coffee.

You shrugged, “Well, Oscar’s like my second son at this point.”

He smiled, albeit his cheeks a little red, “I’m glad you think that. I’m pretty sure he thinks of you as a mum at this point too.”

Now it was your turn to turn red. Your face heated up at Harry’s passing comment. Did he really think of you as a mum? “That’s sweet,” you said. “About what you said the other night… about meeting somebody, my friend says she knows a guy she thinks I’d get along with. So, I think I’m really going to try dating.”

He stiffened slightly, “Oh yeah? That’s great, Y/N.”

He hugged you and you couldn’t help but feel so safe in his arms. The hug was perhaps a second or three too long, but neither of you pulled away. And, as your bodies were pressed together, it was almost as if you shared a brief but looming epiphany together. “But,” you began again, “why try dating a stranger when I already know somebody?”

“That’s a good point,” he whispered softly, finally pulling away to make eye contact. He explored your face and you felt his warm breath on your cheeks.

“I mean, this guy that I know, he’s sweet. Really sweet. He’s super funny and caring and so, so generous. And he has a kid himself, so he won’t be put off by the single parent thing.”

He understood what you were trying to tell him, “Sounds like an angel. Who is this fine man of whom you speak?”

You grinned, “I don’t know if I should say. He has tattoos and green eyes.”

“So he’s incredibly handsome as well as being an angel?”

“I suppose you could say that,” you chuckled. And, as if the sky were falling down, Harry wasted no time in pressing his lips to your own. He kissed you and you kissed him back. All of your prior dating worries just seemed to slip away as you buried your fingers in Harry’s soft hair. It was only when you heard a quiet ‘mum?’ from the doorway did you jolt apart. Tommy stood in the threshold of the kitchen and suddenly the microwave went off, notifying you that Oscar’s soup was ready. You and Harry turned back to each other, finally registering Tommy’s presence, “Shit.”

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

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Long Lost Prince Part 2;

Merlin leads his people home and Arthur grapples with whether he should keep his feelings to himself or not.

Part 1

Just like Arthur promised, a portion of Camelot's army mixed with around fifty of Merlin's knights are marching towards the Dragonlands within a month.

Merlin and Arthur lead the way, Sir Thornway, Sir Leon, and Sir Mordred following closely behind. It was decided fairly quickly that Hunith and Gaius would stay in Camelot; they were desperate to get home, but they weren't fighters, and whilst the chance of attack was fairly low considering the army behind them and the two dragons circling ahead, Arthur and Merlin were unwilling to risk it.

At a quick pace, Arthur reckons they could've made the journey in a week, but the army is slow-moving, and it takes them almost three to reach the border. They don't hear a peep out of anyone as they move through the countryside, though Arthur does raise an amused eyebrow at Merlin every once in a while, as and when the Warlock chuckles at Kilgharrah whispering in his head about all the various pathetic mercenaries and bandits running away screaming at the sight of his silhouette against the clouds.

The Dragonland, in comparison to Camelot, was a very small kingdom, but it’s capital city was near the far border, backed by miles and miles of towering mountains. In one of the many sessions of reminiscing that Merlin, Thornway, and Kilgharrah have in the evenings, they discuss the mountains at length. They were mostly uninhabited by people, even before the purge, they were far too treacherous for those without a guide and strong magic, and even then the paths were still dangerous.

The great mountains were where the Dragon’s resided; in a network of twisting tunnels and great caverns carved with fire and magic. Merlin vaguely remembers being taken there a few weeks before... before they left. Thornway told him that retreating into the mountains was one of the back up plans, if Uther’s army was too big and there was no hope of escape through the countryside.

(Arthur frowned at that. He was frowning at a lot nowadays, but Merlin just squeezed his leg under the blanket they were sharing (Leon did NOT smirk and Arthur did NOT blush) and whispered, yet again, that he was not his father.)

The escape through the mountains was planned to be a last ditch effort though, even with the dragons leading them and their strongest sorcerers protecting them, the perilous paths, with their knife edge drops and loose rocks and harsh snow, would have taken too many casualties to count. Though, in the end, escaping through the countryside had been just as deadly.

Arthur also used the journey to think about what Leon had said. Though Merlin and The King stuck close by for the whole trek, conversation was sparse (though the silences were comfortable); Arthur was unsure how to bring up the inevitable change in their relationship, though he knows that, for his own peace of mind if nothing else, he should.

They were deep into the Kingdom, having passed all the now doubly abandoned outer villages (Arthur was right in thinking that two dragons and a marching army scared away all the various mercenary groups and bandits) and now only a day’s ride from the capital, that Arthur asked Merlin the question that had been plaguing his mind for weeks. The two of them were sat against a fallen log, the night flourishing around them. The silence over the rest of the camp was tense, the knowledge that they were close hanging in the air, but the silence between Merlin and Arthur was comfortable, peaceful:

“What are you planning on doing?”

Merlin took a noticeably deep breath and Arthur turned to him, trying desperately to keep the worried frown off his face:

“I don’t know. I didn’t really discuss it with ma, we just... wanted to get home, and work from there, see what happens I guess.”

Arthur nodded, gulping slightly before he responds:

“Do you think she wants the throne? Your mother? Or will you become King?”

Merlin chuckles, but Arthur clenches his hands and looks away at the humourless lilt the noise has:

“I’d love to see her back in her crown, on her throne, but it’s been a long time. She did everything with my father by her side, I don’t know if... if she would want to do it on her own. I don’t know that she would cope.-”

The Warlock turns to face Arthur, and it strikes The King how close they are when he can feel Merlin’s breath on his cheek. He turns to meet his gaze once more:

“-What would you do, Arthur? In my place?”

Arthur can only hold his stare for a few moments before he looks to his lap, shaking his head slightly:

“I don’t know, Merlin. Tell me what’s on your mind, I... I can’t promise that I’ll have the answers, but maybe saying things out-loud will help.”

Merlin nods as he shuffles in his spot slightly, and Arthur likes to think that he was moving closer:

“I... I’m desperate to get home. But at the same time, I waited. I waited for twenty years, I’ve built myself a life in Camelot, I’d... given up on ever returning home, and I was just about coming to terms with the fact that Camelot was my home now. And then... this. I have to lead my people back, I know that, I owe it to them, it’s my job to protect them and give them back their heritage-”

Arthur interrupts quietly:

“Your heritage.”

Merlin sighs:

“-yeah, my heritage. My mother, and Gaius, and my people, and... and I, we deserve to go home. But I was only six when we left, I never got all the lessons on how to be a Politician, a King. Yes, I’m the heir, yes, I remember home and the crown and being a little Prince, but I am not built to be a King, Arthur, I don’t want to- I can’t fail my people, but I fear I will. I... I’ve been putting up a brave front for my mum, for Thornway, but I’m terrified. I have no idea what I’m doing, Arthur. What if I mess up?”

Arthur allows a small smile to slip onto his face as he takes Merlin’s fidgeting hands in his own. He shakes his head as he huffs out a short laugh and Merlin looks at him incredulously:

“You couldn’t possibly, Merlin. I know you well, do I not?-”

Merlin nods his head vigorously:

“Better than anyone.”

Arthur fights the blush:

“-And I’m telling you, that you have nothing to worry about. You may not have had official lessons, but you have the mind for politics.-”

Arthur glances to his lap briefly as he takes a fortifying breath, stroking his thumbs over the back of Merlin’s hands, still clutched in his, and looking up to him again:

“-I had all those lessons. All that training, and practicing, and tutoring. But I was still so... lost when I became King. I don’t think I ever told you, Merlin, but the only thing that got me through was you, always by my side. Because I knew that you would never let me fail, because I trusted you to see my shortcomings and make up for them without fuss, without fault. And you did, without asking for any thanks, or recognition, like you do with everything. To this day, you think I’m a good King because of destiny, but that’s utter bollocks and I’ve always known it. I’m a good King, Merlin, because you made me a good man first. And on days when I doubt my own rule, I remind myself of how much faith you have in me, and it gives me strength, because I know you would never allow me to fail, and on the off chance I fall, I know you would catch me. Every good King who cares about his people has doubts, Merlin, but however much faith you have in me? I have the same amount, if not more, in you. You’ll do just fine.”

Merlin looks at him with wide, teary eyes, and Arthur flushes under the scrutiny. The King goes to say something, maybe a flippant joke to de-charge the atmosphere, but before he can utter even a word, Merlin throws himself at him, wrapping tight arms around his shoulders and burying his face in his neck. Arthur almost falls back, but he holds steady, chuckling slightly as he returns Merlin’s hug with equal intensity. Merlin’s muffled voice from his shoulder has Arthur tightening his grip:

“Will you catch me? If I fall?”

Arthur moves a hand up to cradle the back of Merlin’s head:

“You won’t fall. But I’d spend the rest of my life stood below you with my arms out ready, Merlin, if that gave you just a fraction of the belief in yourself that you should have.”

Neither pulled away for what felt like hours, and by the time Thornway wondered over to check on them, they had fallen asleep against the log, arms still firmly wrapped around each other.

He smiles mournfully as he drapes a blanket over them. You would have to be blind to miss the odd moroseness that had overtaken them both, and the old knight knew that his Prince was dreading having to leave Arthur, and that Arthur was dreading the same. They shuffle in their sleep, and Thornway freezes, worried that he had woken them, but when Arthur just mutters Merlin’s name and moves impossibly closer to the other man Thornway sighs. This is going to be... painful for the two of them, and he’s not quite sure how he can help.

After another day of travel, they find themselves moving through the capital city, towards the castle sitting at the foot of the mountains.

The army was left with orders to methodically clear the city whilst Arthur, Leon, Thornway, and Mordred headed straight for the citadel gates. Though the city had fallen into disrepair, the castle looked like it had barely been touched, even by the elements, and Thornway explained that powerful enchantments laid over the ancient building, preventing it from being invaded or damaged by even the strongest of armies:

“It was meant to be a stronghold, somewhere we could hide and keep our people safe in emergencies, but we knew if we did that we would have backed ourselves into a corner. Uther was taking over more and more of the city every day, if we locked ourselves in... we would have just starved. Trying to escape through the city and out into the wilderness was our only hope.”

Merlin nods absent-mindedly as he stares up at the main door:

“Can we even get in?”

His voice is quiet and shaky, and Mordred steps forward to put a hand on his shoulder as Thornway replies with a small smile:

“You’re the heir, the doors will always open for you, Little Falcon.”

Merlin replies with a weak smirk and flushed cheeks:

“You know, I’m not all that little anymore.”

Thornway barks out a laugh as he shakes his head slightly, ruffling Merlin’s hair as the younger man pouts:

“Well, you’ll always be littler than me.-”

Merlin goes to retort, but before he can, his knight steps back and gestures to the great doors in front of them:

“-Go on, it’s time for us to finally come home, I think.”

Merlin gulps and nods, and Mordred lets his hand fall back to his side as the older Warlock takes the steps two at a time, hesitating only slightly before he wraps his hand around one of the doors’ metal rings. It twists easily in his grip, and the door swings open. Merlin has to take a step back and cover his mouth with his sleeve as he coughs, the billowing clouds of dust being disturbed for the first time in two decades making it almost impossible to see into the dark hall.

It settles after a few moments and Merlin takes a deep breath, reaching behind him wordlessly and relaxing only when he feels Arthur take his hand. The blonde King gives his hand a comforting squeeze, and Merlin takes his first shaking steps across the threshold.

He walks through the dark corridors slowly, one hand tightly clenched in Arthur’s, the other trailing along the wall next to him. The rest of the group is silent as they follow him, and nothing can be heard bar their muffled steps over the dusty rugs, and the deep breathing of Merlin and Thornway.

Merlin seems to know where he’s going, so no one questions the corners he turns and the rooms he passes without second thought. The deeper into the castle they get, the darker it becomes, until finally Merlin stops, a long hall stretched out in front of him. His eyes flash gold and the torches lining the walls flare up, illuminating the corridor in golden light. Arthur turns to look at the Warlock beside him, empathetic tears gathering in his eyes as he sees tracks on Merlin’s cheeks.

Merlin turns to glance at Thornway, whose in a similar state, before closing his eyes and flattening his free hand against the wall, digging his fingertips into the cracks as his voice comes out quiet and raspy:

“I know these halls, this stone.-”

Thornway takes a deep stuttering breath, muttering Merlin’s name. Merlin steps away from the wall, looking back to his knight with a weak, teary smile:

“-Do you remember? Chambers filled with golden light, vast halls bustling with people and dragons and magic?”

Thornway gulps and nods, slowly moving towards Merlin and putting a hand on his shoulder:

“I remember.-”

He nods down the corridor, taking a deep breath and clearing his throat before asking:

“-You remember what’s down there?��

Merlin smiles and nods, squeezing Arthur’s hand and leading the group down the hall, obviously impatient to get to wherever their destination is, but unwilling to walk any quicker.

Leon and Arthur share a confused and slightly concerned look but don’t say anything, allowing Merlin and Thornway to lead the way. Once again, Merlin hesitates only slightly before pushing the door at the end of the corridor open. and the six of them gather inside the immense chamber. Like the rest of the castle, it was dusty, but untouched; unlike the rest of the castle, it was bathed in colourful light. The walls were high, the ceiling obviously stretching far above the surrounding rooms, and the afternoon sun shone brightly through giant stained glass windows.

Reds and blues and greens and every other colour imaginable were splashed across the stone floor, painting pictures of dragons and flowers and family, but everyone’s eyes skip over the colourful artwork, instead being drawn to the two golden thrones sat on a dais at the other end of the hall. Merlin lets go of Arthur’s hand, walking towards the thrones with wide eyes as the others stay back, watching with a mix of pride and grief. Thornway follows after a few moments and Leon has to put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder, shaking his head slightly when the King looks at him. Arthur clenches his hands and looks away, but stays by the door, wanting more than anything to be with Merlin through this but also understanding that it wasn’t his place.

Merlin finally reaches the thrones.

He wipes the thick dust from the armrests with shaking, but reverent hands before sitting down on the steps, slightly to the side of the golden seats. He runs his fingertips over the stone, remembering every bump and crack and texture, and Thornway stands behind him, in line with the thrones, putting a hand on his shoulder and muttering:

“Now this brings back memories.”

Merlin nods, looking up at him, tears no longer flowing, but still gathering in his eyes:

“I... I don’t remember much, but I still... know. I know this is where I sat, with you behind me, ma and dad next to me on their thrones. I remember dad promising that when I was older, they’d have a throne made for me, so I could sit with them.”

Thornway nods, slowly moving to sit beside him, ignoring the creaking in his bones as he lets his weight fall onto the stone steps:

“Hmm. foreign royalty and dignitaries thought it odd that the King and Queen let you sit in on meetings, even as a young child, but they were always adamant; they didn’t want to hide you away. You were always safe, of course, but they wanted you exposed to the people and the people exposed to you. I suppose they wanted to nurture a natural love and protectiveness of your people in you; how could they expect you to serve the Kingdom well if you were only doing so out of duty, and not genuine love?”

Merlin hums thoughtfully before smiling briefly up at Arthur, still stood on the other side of the room. When Arthur tentatively returns the smile, despite not hearing the hushed conversation, Merlin looks to Thornway next to him, bumping shoulders with a short giggle:

“Probably why I’ve always been so disrespectful to Arthur, everyone in here was equal, no matter what. I guess that’s why the treatment of servants and commoners was such a shock when I moved to Camelot, I don’t really remember much of home, but it definitely felt different.”

Thornway nods as Merlin stands, holding out a hand to the knight and pulling him to his feet. Merlin’s gaze moves around the room, though he stays rooted to the spot, and Thornway asks his question quietly:

“What do you want to do? Do you want to finish clearing the castle and the city first, or fetch your mother and uncle first?”

Merlin gulps before taking a deep breath, staring at the floor and saying in a small voice:

“I don’t know... what do you think I should do?”

Thornway chuckles and shakes his head:

“This is your decision, Little Falcon. You are the Crown Prince, this is your Kingdom, your city, your people, trust your instincts. What should be done?”

Merlin looks to Arthur once again, reminding himself of the King’s promise to catch him should he fall, before looking back at Thornway with a determined expression:

“Send Kilgharrah to fetch ma and Gaius. We no longer need him as a deterrent, and we’ll still have Aithusa. He can make the journey to Camelot and back in a week at most, knights, even on horseback, will take at least twice that. It’s been a while since either of them went flying, but they’ll remember soon enough, and I trust Kilgharrah to keep them safe. We can keep clearing the city and start rough plans for rebuilding whilst we wait.”

Thornway grins and nods proudly:

“Exactly what I would have suggested. See? You’ll be just fine.-”

Merlin returns his grin shyly, blushing slightly as he rubs the back of his neck. Thornway rolls his eyes good-naturedly before gesturing to the others:

“-Come, My Lord, we should let the others know and head out to send Kilgharrah off as soon as possible.”

Merlin pushes the older knight’s shoulder playfully at the use of a title, but Thornway just smirks and waves Merlin ahead of him.

Arthur, Leon, and Mordred were told of the plan as the group made their way out of the castle again, having to cover their eyes when they step into the bright sunlight. They all smiled fondly as they saw Merlin’s growing confidence, though Arthur had to stamp down the growing anxiety swirling in his stomach; he refused to be sad for himself.

Kilgharrah was flying back towards Camelot within the hour, and Merlin was separating the army into groups and assigning tasks with a strong voice and straight back, taking every question and suggestion in his stride and organising hundreds of people without issue.

Arthur knew that there was still a conversation to be had between himself and Merlin, though with every day that passed he questioned whether it was the right thing to do. He wasn’t oblivious enough not to notice the way Merlin always asked for his council, even when he didn’t need it, always searched for his eyes in the crowd when he addressed his people, but that didn’t mean that his... affections, were returned.

Everyone, even Thornway now, kept shooting him pitying looks, and he figured out fairly quickly that he wasn’t as subtle as he’d like to believe. Leon was the only one he could rely on to convincingly pretend nothing was wrong, and Arthur used that to back up his deliberate ignoring of his stupid emotions.

Six days had passed and the clearing of debris from the lower town was well on its way when Kilgharrah landed in the castle courtyard, his two passengers tense and teary. Only Hunith, Gaius, Merlin, and Thornway took the journey through the castle this time; the others continued to help with the work in the town, not quite feeling that they would be welcome on the emotional tour.

Hunith decided fairly quickly that she would move on to become Queen Mother. Merlin would be crowned King (though he put his foot down and insisted that it wouldn’t happen until everything was properly sorted, and the people were settled back in the city), and though Hunith would still be the most senior of the royals, Merlin would technically have the most power.

Arthur had mixed feelings about that.

As King, Merlin would be a lot busier, would have a lot more responsibilities, but equally, he would have much more control over the use of his time; somehow making it both harder and easier to organise visits between the two of them. Though Arthur, of course, didn’t mention such feelings, just pulled Merlin into another tight hug and congratulated him with a grin.

With the help of Merlin and Mordred’s magic, and the few sorcerers scattered throughout the army they had brought, clearing the town of debris and rebuilding what they could with whatever was left went fairly quickly. Soon enough, the blacksmith’s and an infirmary were up and running, and the farms were ready for work to commence, just as soon as the resources from Camelot arrived.

The castle, whilst it had been fully explored by Merlin, Hunith, Thornway, and Gaius, had yet to be opened up to others or cleaned properly, but no one mentioned it. The gang slept happily in homes rebuilt in the upper town, and accepted Merlin’s excuse of wanting to focus on the people’s infrastructure first.

It was a week or so after Hunith and Gaius had arrived, Kilgharrah and Aithusa had disappeared into the mountains with Merlin’s approval, and Arthur once again found Merlin stood in the otherwise empty, still dusty throne room, staring at the golden seats with his hands in his pockets and his face tense.

Years ago, Arthur would’ve been wrong in his assumption that Merlin hadn’t heard him approach, but just this once he knows that he’s right. Arthur had slowly become an expert on picking up Merlin’s ticks, and even in the low light of the evening the blonde could tell that Merlin had no clue he was there.

Arthur didn’t want to feel like he was intruding, so cleared his throat quietly, only walking closer to the other man when his head whipped around, smiling slightly when he saw it was just Arthur.

Arthur stepped up next to him, and they both stared at the thrones in silence, shoulders brushing ever so slightly. Everything had been so busy in recent weeks that, other than the conversation two weeks earlier, Arthur and Merlin had spent barely any time together, just the two of them; every other time Arthur had found Merlin alone in the throne room he had shut the door quietly behind him and left, too afraid to intrude, not quite ready to start a conversation. The conversation.

After a few minutes, he clears his throat again and speaks in a quiet voice, not looking to the Warlock next to him:

“What’s on your mind?”

Merlin responds almost immediately, but like Arthur, he speaks quietly and doesn’t move his gaze from the thrones:

“Nothing, everything. I’m... doing ok, I think.-”

Arthur nods with a small smile, but Merlin continues before he can say anything:

“-But I’m scared that I’m only doing well because you’re here. You have to go back to Camelot eventually and... it sounds stupid, but I... I don’t want you to go. I need you, Arthur.”

Arthur gulps, finally looking to Merlin’s sorrowful face, though the other man refuses to meet his gaze. He takes his hands out of his pockets, fiddling with them roughly, rubbing his knuckles together and scratching his palms harshly. Arthur clenches his jaw, taking one of Merlin’s hands in his own gently and running soothing fingers over the younger man’s callouses:

“I know what you mean.-”

Merlin looks to him in surprise, his eyes widening, and Arthur continues with a small smile:

“-I told you, Merlin, I’m only a good King because of you. I’ve never had to rule on my own before and I’m dreading going back to Camelot without you.-”

Merlin shakes his head roughly, but Arthur continues once again, before he can disagree:

“-No, Merlin, don’t argue, it’s true. I... I need you as well, I don’t want to be without you, and I’ve no clue how I’m going to cope with a week’s ride between us. Leon tried talking some sense into me back in Camelot, and I know he was right, that all relationships take effort and we’ll have to work incredibly hard to stay in each other’s lives in any significant capacity, and I’m absolutely willing to do anything to keep you close, if not physically then... otherwise, but I’m still...-”

Arthur sighs and looks away, his cheeks just a little bit pink as he continues quietly:

“-I’m still scared to be without you.”

Merlin gulps and squeezes Arthur’s hand in his own, waiting for the blonde to finally look up at him again. The Warlock smiles at the eye contact and Arthur returns it weakly as Merlin finally replies:

“The last ten years of my life have revolved around you, completely and utterly, and I know it’s selfish of me to... not want that to change. I know I’m staying here, with my people, as their King. I would never consider abandoning them, not really, but I desperately want to, just so I can stay with you. We... we’ll figure something out, find some way to communicate quickly. I’m magic incarnate, there has to be a way, I... I’ll make a way, if I have to.”

The tears in Arthur’s eyes finally overflow at Merlin’s determined tone, but before the other man can say anything about it, Arthur pulls him into a tight hug, clutching his cloak in shaking fingers and burying his face in his shoulder, for once feeling grateful for the extra inch in height that Merlin has on him. Merlin returns the hug without hesitation, closing his eyes against the tears, though not managing to stop them from falling as he quietly speaks, his voice thick:

“I promised that I would stay with you until the day I died, but I... I have to leave, I... I can’t-”

Arthur tightens the hug as he interrupts him:

“No, Merlin, you owe me nothing, you don’t have to explain. You’ve already given me my kingdom, now it’s my chance to return the favour. I would never ever ask you to leave this behind just for me.”

Arthur can feel Merlin’s body shaking with silent sobs, and he runs a hand through his hair softly, breathing deeply in an effort to hold in his own bawling.

They stand wrapped in each other for a while, neither willing to let go even when their tears dry up and their breathing evens out. Eventually Merlin rasps out a whispered:

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Arthur pulls back at long last, but doesn’t go far, leaning his forehead against Merlin’s and closing his eyes before replying:

“You won’t. We’ll take turns hosting Yule celebrations, and I can visit on your birthday, and there’ll be tournaments of course, and trade routes, and shared patrols near the border. I refuse to let you slip from my grasp, Merlin, you’ll never be without me, not for long anyway.”

Merlin huffs out a gentle laugh, and Arthur thinks the flutter of his breath over his cheeks and through his eyelashes is the most beautiful thing he’s ever felt. Both of them open their eyes, but they don’t move away from each other, even as they stare, becoming increasingly aware of the very little amount of space between them. Arthur’s brows crease slightly but he ignores the concerned question in Merlin’s eyes, instead lifting a hand to gently cup his jaw, gulping as Merlin’s expression falls into a soft smile.

The King takes a deep breath as he summons his courage, eyes filling with tears again as he clears his throat, whispering so quietly that it’s a miracle Merlin hears him, even with only inches between them:

“Merlin, I... you mean a great deal to... I mean I... -”

He cuts himself off with a quiet huff, and Merlin smirks at the slight blush dusting his cheeks, patiently waiting for him to continue. Arthur shuts his eyes tightly, taking another deep breath before opening them with a newfound determination. He meant it, he’d come this far, he was not going to let Merlin slip away:

“I love you, you are the single most important person in my life, and I would go to the ends of this world just to see you smile. I owe you my life, and so much more than that; you’ve been making promises and swearing oaths to my crown for years-”

Merlin interrupts him quietly:

“To you, to Arthur, not the crown, to you.”

Arthur huffs slightly and rolls his eyes:

“I’m trying to confess my undying love here Merlin, and I’m not very good with this whole... expressing shit, so shut up and let me finish.-”

Merlin snorts but stays otherwise silent, raising an eyebrow to prompt Arthur to continue:

“-Like I was saying. You’ve been swearing things for years, and now it’s my turn.-”

Arthur steps back, taking Merlin’s hands tightly in his own as he lowers himself to one knee, pressing his forehead to the Warlock’s knuckles:

“-I swear on my crown and in the name of Camelot, that I will always love you, that I will always be ready catch you, and that I will never stop putting the work in to make sure I don’t lose you, that you don’t lose me.”

The blonde can hear Merlin’s stuttered breathe and barely has time to process Merlin’s whispered-

“I accept your oath.”

-before he’s being pulled to his feet and urgently kissed.

One of Merlin’s hands settles on the side of Arthur’s neck and the other grips his hip. Arthur’s arms flail for only a moment in his shock before he moves to clutch Merlin’s collar tightly, closing his eyes and kissing back, pushing as much of his devotion into the action as possible and wanting nothing more than to sooth the stress-induced bite marks on Merlin’s lips.

They pull back far too soon, as far as both of them are concerned, once again resting their foreheads against each other as they catch their breath. Arthur’s face slowly morphs into a grin as he says:

“And to think I was stressing over whether I should tell you for weeks.”

Merlin rolls his eyes in response, snorting in amusement as he admits, much to Arthur’s chagrin:

“Believe me, I already knew, you weren’t very subtle. You’ve been sulking.”

Arthur lets out an incredulous huff and pulls back, still holding Merlin’s collar but staring at Merlin’s amused raised eyebrow with wide eyes:

“I am a King, Merlin, I do not sulk.”

Merlin chuckles:

“Well so am I, and yes you do.”

Arthur narrows his eyes slightly:

“Not yet you’re not. That’s besides the point, if you knew... why didn’t you say anything?”

Merlin’ face falls slightly, and if Arthur had to guess, he’d say that Merlin looked a little guilty. The blonde furrowed his brows but pulls his Warlock close again, stroking his jaw softly with his thumb as he waits for an answer:

“I... I love you, Arthur, more than anything, but... I wanted see if you would do anything about it. I knew I would do anything for you, but I needed... I needed to know if you thought I was worth the distance, the effort. If I said something first, I never would have known... I would always be second guessing if you were about to... to break it off, because you didn’t want to put in the frankly ridiculous amount of effort it’s going to take to keep things... good.”

Arthur smiles and shakes his head disbelievingly, landing a quick kiss to the tip of Merlin’s nose and smirking at the way his face scrunches in response:

“Well, now you do know. I will do anything, everything, to keep you happy and safe and loved. You will always be in my heart, if not by my side.”

Merlin smiles, and the two of them resolutely ignore the tears gathering in their eyes as he whispers his reply:

“As will I. I’ll talk to the Druids, Kilgharrah, Thornway, I’m sure we’ll be able to figure out some magical way to communicate.”

Arthur just smiles and nods, taking Merlin’s hands in his own once more:

“Ready to head to sleep? It’s late, and I know you’re tired.”

Merlin takes a deep breath, glancing to the thrones before walking towards the door, keeping Arthur’s hand securely in his:

“Yeah. Though unless we sneak past the others I doubt we’ll get to sleep for a while. Morgana’s been speaking to me in my head and teasing me for weeks and my mum keeps hinting at how politically beneficial a marriage between the kingdoms would be.”

Arthur doesn’t even try to hide his snort, but nods in agreement and squeezes Merlin’s hand, following him out into the star-lit evening with a newfound enthusiasm to see what the future will bring.

THE END OF PART 2!!!

I think I’ll write one more reeeaally short part, a ten years later sort of thing, just because I have a few more ideas about this, but no real huge plot points, just cute little things I want to add in but haven’t found space for yet.

This took a little longer than I expected to come out, but I hope y’all enjoyed it!!

(and yes, I may have taken a little inspiration from The Hobbit movies, sue me (pls don’t, I’m kidding))

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one-boring-person · 3 years

Note

Ok idea. What if the 800 brings up kisses and cuddles and other affection and he asks what they mean, so we explain it and he kinda thinks about it for a second and has this moment of like "that explains why I feel so weird around them" and he goes for like a kiss or something and it's cute and fluffy and soft and shit.

Sorry this took so long, I hope you like it!😊💛

My Affection.

T-800 (Terminator: Judgement Day) x reader

Warnings: none

Masterlist

Humming lightly to myself, I drum my fingers on the hard planes of Bob's abdomen, resting my chin on his leather-clad back as he finally turns down our street, the motorbike growling loudly as it slows. The terminator sitting before me doesn't respond to my touch, something that strikes me as odd given his usual need for enlightenment as to why I'm doing what I'm doing. Shrugging it off, I sigh in relief as he turns onto our driveway, halting the vehicle beside the four-by-four Sarah insists we keep hold of.

Removing my arms from around his waist, somewhat reluctantly, admittedly, I climb off of the bike, stretching out my muscles with a satisfied groan, just missing how the cyborg's eyes linger on my body as he stands beside me. Shaking myself off, I smile briefly at him and go to the front door, unlocking it for the two of us to go in. He's silent as he follows me, going straight into the kitchen.

"You doing alright?" I call after him, frowning at his almost callous behaviour.

"Affirmative." He intones in response, his choice of words making it abundantly clear that he's not entirely focused on the present, rather that he's running through some string of data on his HUD.

"Sure you are." I mumble to myself, rolling my eyes as my mood dampens.

The rest of the house is quiet, meaning Sarah and John aren't around at the moment. Sighing, I follow the terminator into the kitchen, briefly taking note of him standing stock-still by the island, gazing into the spacious lounge before him. I shake my head as I pass him, going straight to the fridge, where I pick out some milk, going to the cupboard once I've done so, intending on making some coffee for myself. Taking out a cup and the relevant ingredients, I start to boil some water, tapping the counter as I wait for it to heat.

"I require clarification." Bob eventually states, voice louder now.

I make a noise of acknowledgement, tilting my head vaguely in his direction, watching as the water starts to boil.

"Why is it customary to embrace someone when expressing affection? And what point is there in joining one's mouth with another?"

I double take at his questions, having not expected anything quite like that. It takes me a moment to recover, and to figure out what exactly he's asking of me.

"You mean hugging and kissing?" I inquire, picking at the hem of my shirt.

"I am not familiar with the term "kissing" but hugging I am."

"Right," I chuckle, shaking my head in exasperation, "Right."

A silence descends on us whilst I try to figure out just what to say, as I find myself doing very often nowadays, my body turning to face his, eyes meeting with his. The cyborg waits patiently, watching me closely from his position opposite me, body so still he could be a statue.

"Well, hugging is done by loads of people to show all kinds of affection and love, like friendship as well as intimate love. Kissing, well, kissing is almost always done to show that you love someone. That's the whole mouths touching thing, you know? It's very intimate and can be sexual sometimes, but people use it all the time to show love to someone they care a lot about." As I speak, a look of understanding dawns on his otherwise blank face, clarity returning to his gaze, something I know means that he's got a new mission objective.

"Kissing is used as a way of expressing deep, intimate love to someone?" He repeats, head tilting to the side.

"Yeah." I agree, turning back around as the water finishes boiling, taking it off the heat and starting to make myself some instant coffee.

A squeak of surprise escapes from me as a pair of muscular arms suddenly wrap themselves around my waist, pulling me gently back against a broad chest. Eyes wide, I tense in his grip, unsure of what is happening when his head appears at my neck, nose nudging at the skin, as if encouraging me to turn to face him. Slowly, I do so, rotating in the circle of his arms, looking up at him as he gazes down at me.

I lift my hands to rest on his chest as he starts to rub circles into my hips, his thumbs digging comfortably into my skin, drawing a soft sigh from me as I relax into his touch. Finding it hard to focus with the sensation of his touch and the strong, familiar scent surrounding me, I lean into him, confused as to what is happening.

"What are you doing?" I murmur, maintaining eye contact, only now realising he's gotten closer, his face inches from mine.

"Expressing my affection." Is all he says before his lips are plastered against mine.

He's soft at first, tentative, probing at me as if I were made of glass, gently coaxing me into action, not that I need much coaxing. After a moment of surprise I'm quick to reciprocate, eagerly kissing back as he presses closer, hands pulling our bodies flush together as he pins me back against the counter, smooth lips moving quickly with mine. Gripping my hips, he lifts me onto the counter, wrapping my legs around his waist as he continues to kiss me, swiftly deepening it as he swipes his tongue over my bottom lip. Instantly, I open up to him, allowing the smooth muscle to slide inside and start exploring, licking at every available inch it can, drawing soft moans from me at the sensual feel of it.

My hands are tightly gripped in his hair, pulling him closer at first, though I now have to disengage us as my breath finally runs out, a string of saliva connecting us as he does so. A half-moan leaves me at the sight of it, but it's cut off by yet another kiss being pressed to my cheek. He waits for me to catch my breath, before he starts to leave softer kisses on my lips, as if teasing me with his slower pace.

"You...you like me like that?" I gasp out between each kiss, trying to ignore the joy that floods me at the notion.

"I do not follow." Each word is punctuated by a brush of his soft lips over mine.

"Well, do you have intimate affection for me?" I try again, using terminology he'll understand.

Pulling back a little, the terminator locks eyes with me, licking his lips.

"I have very high levels of affection for you." He admits, leaning back in to claim my lips properly again, slipping his tongue right back into my mouth as he starts to ravish it again, clearly having found something new to enjoy and explore.

#terminator #terminator judgement day #terminator 2 #terminator imagine #terminator 1984 #arnold schwarzenegger

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whosscruffylooking · 4 years

Text

The Purest Things- Repeating History

Aaron Hotchner x Female Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Brief mentions of murder and alcohol. Canon typical violence.

A/N: this takes place during season 3 episode 11, birthright. i had a lot of fun studying this episode and making it my own. i have changed certain dialogue and who says what for the sake of the story. please enjoy!

The Purest Things Masterlist

(my gif! please credit if you use.)

january 2008

Syd Moore said, “Disregard for the past will never do us any good. Without it we cannot know truly who we are.”

+++++

Your alarm is often hushed before it even has an opportunity to set off nowadays because you usually wake up before it even has the chance.

4:25 A.M.

You groan and toss your pillow over your face. Maybe, just maybe, you can will yourself to sleep for a little longer. As if someone heard your pleas for slumber, your phone starts buzzing on your bedside table. Of course, it is unnecessary for you even to read the messages. There is a case.

+++++

"Last night in Fredericksburg, a 20-year-old woman, Molly McCarthy, was abducted," J.J. begins, "She's the third to go missing in the last 6 weeks. All disappeared from public places. No one's seen them since until now. A couple days ago, body parts with cigarette burns were recovered from a national park that was once the site of the battle of Chancellorsville."

"Were they able to make an I.D.?" you and Hotch ask simultaneously. Your eyes meet, but he breaks the contact abruptly. Flustered and insecure, you bury your focus deep into the file in front of you. The group discusses the case for a couple of minutes, but you are so concentrated on the papers that you hardly absorb any information they've shared.

There is something familiar about this case to you. Suddenly, realization strikes.

Rejoining the discussions, you say, "I remember reading about a case like this in Spotsylvania county. Similar markings on the bone. It was the winter of 1980, also in Fredericksburg. There were 5 women aged 16 to 24. They were buried in pieces."

"Same markings. Same civil war battlefield," J.J. responds in agreement.

The team agrees that this could be the works of the same killer. There are aspects of the more recent killings that would be impossible to copycat since those details had never been released to the public. But, if this is the same unsub, what's he been doing for the past 27 years?

+++++

Hotch focuses on the road while you watch out the window of the passenger seat. Occasionally, you sneak the odd peek at him. His stoicism is alluring, and you find yourself drawn to this demeanor like a moth to a flame. Piecing together the tiny glimpses you've collected thus far as if working on a mental puzzle, you scrutinize his attributes. His eyes bare the beginnings of crow's feet. Only his sideburns tease the speckling of salt and pepper undertones. His lips turn downwards at the corners, no doubt from years of scowling at unsubs.

Reid speaks up from behind you both and breaks your train of thought. Probably for the better, there's no reason why you should examine your unit chief so intently.

"It's funny--he always dumps the bodies in this battlefield, no matter what the risk."

"It's a respected landmark. He's flaunting," Aaron reckons.

"It makes him feel important," you say in agreement.

Once you have arrived at the crime scene, you follow Agent Hotchner closely. Reid trails ahead, most likely trying to keep up with his own train of thought.

"How does someone not see or hear them?" You ask the sheriff.

He turns to you with a defeated expression, "It was dark. He had the advantage. Molly's boyfriend was the last person to see her. He said she was alone for a minute, maybe less."

Hotch surveys the surroundings, "He's patient and works fast."

"He's perfected his M.O.," Reid states while looking around.

You cross your arms as a wave of unease gets the best of you as you envision the moments leading to Molly's attack.

"If our unsub's pushing 60, he's gotta be strong enough to carry her a long way without her struggling," you bring out.

Hotch looks to you with a concerned squint. You shake your head, signaling to him that it's nothing you can't get under control. He nods in response. The sheriff agrees to point out the various entrances to the park.

"I'll catch up with you," your Unit Chief states. He motions for you to step aside with him, and you comply.

"You know, ever since my wife and I had our son, I dread receiving cases involving children," he discloses to you.

Tears well up in your eyes, "I can't even imagine, but sir, why are you telling me this?"

"This job will inevitably strike close to home on some cases more than others. It's okay for you to feel overwhelmed by it all every once and a while," he assures you.

"You never lose it, though."

He sighs heavily, "Maybe I should have."

Shortly before you joined the BAU, Hotch's wife Haley left with their son Jack. You never ask questions or stick your nose where it doesn't belong. It isn't your place, and you can't blame him for not wanting to bring his family struggles to work. He deals with enough broken families on the job as it is. Mixing his own personal life into the field would only make it more challenging to prioritize. Despite all this, you cannot help but wonder what exactly led to his and his wife's separation. You hope that they can find their way back to each other. The crimes you investigate do not need to claim the Hotchner's as victims as well.

+++++

"I'll let you talk to Chrissy Wilkenson," Hotch directs you towards the kitchen. You wipe your sweaty palms against the fabric of your pants and make your way into the kitchen, Hotch following closely behind you.

"Mrs. Wilkenson," you say gently, "My name is Y/F/N. I have just a few questions about your husband. Where does Charlie usually go when he's stressed?"

"The barn," she stutters. You can tell she's anxious and afraid for the well-being of her family.

"Anywhere else, Chrissy?"

Hotch is called into the other room, and you continue questioning Chrissy. She's becoming overwhelmed, so you guide her to the dining room.

"I know this is difficult, Chrissy."

"Did the father of my child really do that to those poor women?" She cradles her baby bump.

Your heart breaks for her, and you choose to remain silent. Sometimes saying nothing speaks louder than words.

Footsteps bound throughout the house, and Hotch appears in the doorway, "The sheriff will stay here with Mrs. Wilkenson. We need you with us."

Standing up from your chair, you place your hand atop Chrissy's, "History doesn't have to repeat itself." It is almost as if she could tell you were reading her thoughts. The endless whispers that cloud her mind making her feel like she's left with only one choice, but there's always another option. That is all you are trying to remind her of.

+++++

As you and your team trek through the forest, you see a clearing.

"Hotch, this way," you beckon him to pursue your course.

Suddenly, a gunshot rings out, and you stop in your tracks. You make eye contact with Hotch and mirror each other's actions, dashing towards the opening in the trees. Your heart pounds in rhythm with your footsteps colliding against the ground. It is clear to you from your exchange with Chrissy at the house that the origin of the gunshot will shock everyone but yourself. As you reach the clearing and rush down the hill, your speculation is validated.

Chrissy Wilkenson is standing over the body of her husband, the unsub. A traumatized young man haunted by his father's past and plagued by the idea that children are trapped in the endless cycles created by their parents.

I guess the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Jesus. Now is not the time for that.

The newly widowed woman claims self-defense, yet the cops handcuff her anyways. Inside, you feel conflicted while watching her get into the back of the squad car.

Hotch appears by your side but remains silent. Again, sometimes silence speaks louder than words. You bit your lip, attempting to hide the fact that it is trembling.

"What did you say to her as you were leaving the dining room?"

"I told her that history does not have to repeat itself. I wanted her to know that even when it feels like you are backed into a corner, there is always another way out. Sometimes people don't know where to look for their out thought," you quiver.

He lightly touches your arm and gives you a reassuring tilt of the head, "Just know that you did everything you could. We will never do this job perfectly. Doing the right thing usually costs more than it pays. You did your part. I'm not a saint, and I am far from a hero, but I have integrity and honor, and I do this job to the best of my ability."

"If you can leave a case with a clear conscience," he continues, "you know you did the best you could. Any other thought process will eat away at you slowly but surely, and ultimately, it will result in the demise of your career and destruction of yourself."

+++++

After a seemingly neverending day, you all arrive back at Quantico.

"I could really go for a drink, guys. What do you say? Newbie's buying," you wave your wallet around frivolously.

"I could go for 5 drinks!" Prentiss exclaims.

"Count me in," Morgan winks at you. He never fails to make you blush.

Reid hesitates and you pout your bottom lip, "Please Reid! How could you not want a repeat of Dolly Parton night last month?"

Hotch comes down the stairs, "Dolly Parton night? Do I want to know?"

You and Derek snicker to each other as Spencer attempts to diffuse his own embarassment.

"9 to 5 is an iconic female anthem that certainly has a rather bewitching affect on a man when mixed with alcohol."

"You only drank Diet Coke that night," you roll your eyes at him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you notice Hotch forcing his way through the small group formed around the desks.

Making your way over to him, you invite him to join, "Want a beer?" You second guess yourself, but it seems as though his rather stern expression softens ever so slightly when he pivots on his heels to look at you.

"I would like that," he answers softly.

He immediately returns to his original path and hovers near the glass doors. You casually make your way over to him, joined by Dave and Emily. A man barges in through the glass doors announcing Aaron's name.

"Agent Hotchner?"

"Yes," the subject in question breaths out almost defeatedly.

The yellow package he holds in his hands is all too familiar and instantly churns your stomach into knots. You gnaw at your bottom lip, drawing a metallic taste that causes you to cringe.

"What is it?" Emily speaks up.

There's no question as to what it is. Oh Hotch. I’m so sorry.

Hotch's eyes trace the package from corner to corner in disbelief, "Haley's filing for divorce. I've been served."

When he eventually takes his eyes off of the lettering, his eyes meet yours. They lock onto you and it is in that moment that you feel as though you have been given the key to unlock his soul. His eyes are so unusual at this moment; they are more vulnerable than you have ever seen. The stoic man is gone, and instead, it is the eyes of one who is in tremendous pain. You had mistaken his bloodshot eyes for physical fatigue on the plane, but now you see that it is emotional exhaustion as well.

If only you knew how badly I want to hug you and tell you that you won't be swallowed up by this darkness. There's a long road ahead, but you have so many people here who love you and are here to support you through this. You aren't alone. Trust me, I know.

In some way, you pray that he can read into your soul and see the pain you feel for him. Once more, your shared silence proves to speak for itself.

At last, he breaks eye contact with you and finally releases the breath that you had been holding in. Dave grabs onto your arm, seeing the clear impact Hotch's news has on you, no doubt having also noticed Hotch's immediate response in looking at you.

"I'm sorry, but I don't think I can join you tonight," he excuses himself and escapes to the seclusion of his office.

Maybe history does have a way of repeating itself.

Tag List:

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closedafterdark · 4 years

Text

Conflicted

BLΛƆKPIИK Chaeyoung x Male Reader

7929 words

categories: smut, oral, angst

note: special thanks to @sharpfeelings for all the help with this.

Read on AFF

“Open up! We know you’re in there!”

Two women look at each other, nodding before the taller of the two kicks the door open.

Drawing their guns, they use the built-in flashlight and search the apartment.

“Bathroom’s clear.”

Bedroom’s clear too.”

Reconvening back in the living room, the two look around at the apartment. Despite it being empty, it was evident someone was living here.

“They’re gone. They probably knew we were coming.”

“Goddamn it! First lead we have in weeks and the prime suspect is already gone.”

“Jooyeon unnie. It’ll be alright.”

Feeling a hand on her shoulder, Son Jooyeon looks to her side and sees Detective Lee Jinsook staring back and giving her a weak yet reassuring smile. Jinsook was sort of an anomaly. Not exactly green enough to be considered a rookie, yet not having been with the squad the necessary amount of time to be classified as a Senior Detective. Graduating from the academy at the minimum age required to do so, Jinsook was assigned to Starship Precinct as a bright, wide-eyed rookie. Having accumulated several years of experience under the guidance of you, Jiyeon and Jooyeon, Jinsook grew to be much more serious. Still maintaining her friendly demeanor when not on the field, she learned to approach situations cautiously and address all possible outcomes when making a decision.

“You’re right.” Jooyeon said, tapping Jinsook’s hand softly and responding with her own soft smile. “It’s just… this is my first assigned case for the Senior Detective promotion. Usually oppa or Jiyeon unnie would be the one leading everything. And with the Captain wanting to promote you and I... I just don’t want to fuck up.”

“Fucking up is a part of learning.” Jinsook began. Jooyeon’s eyes widened slightly, surprised at hearing how casually her partner cursed. “You guys taught me it’s okay to mess up so long as you use it to improve yourself.”

“Since when have you begun giving life advice? Usually it’s the other way around.” Jooyeon teased.

Jinsook pouted at her, giving her the cutest angry glare before heading for the door.

“Hmph!”

Jooyeon softly laughs as she also heads for the door.

“Oh, unnie.”

“Hmm?”

“Jiyeon unnie called the Captain today. She should be returning in a few days.” Jinsook said, turning back as she gave a genuine expression of worry to Jooyeon.

“You haven’t talked to her since the incident, right?”

Jooyeon shook her head, smiling slightly.

“She and I rarely talk to each other anymore.” Jooyeon began, her eyes beginning to glisten. “If anything, she’s closer with the Lieutenant nowadays. I can’t remember the last time Jiyeon unnie and I hungout, just the two of us.”

“Doesn’t help that you slept with her boyfriend, either.”

“H-Hey!” Jooyeon said, softly hitting Jinsook. “She and oppa are on a break.”

“I know you like oppa, unnie. But all three of your relationships will change if you and him get together. You know oppa will prioritize you and unnie’s friendship.”

“I know.” Jooyeon sighed. “It’s just… I really like him. And when we slept together, he made me feel so loved. I just want him.”

“Unnie…” Jinsook said, pulling Jooyeon in for a hug. The two embrace each other for several minutes, Jinsook rubbing the older woman’s bag as she comforts her. When the two let go, Jooyeon wipes away the tears built up. This causes them to laugh slightly and has relaxed her worries.

“Come on unnie, let’s go get some food. Nothing like a tall glass of beer and some spicy barbecue to calm our nerves. Plus, it’ll be fun listening to you talk about oppa while buzzed.” She said, heading for the door. Taking one last look around the empty apartment, Jooyeon is about to leave when something catches the corner of her eye. Kneeling down, she finds a thin piece of slightly durable paper. Black in color, only four words are printed on it in a pink color with a crown emblem.

“How you like that?” Jooyeon read aloud. Taking out her phone, she scrolled through her camera roll and found a photo of the first calling card left behind during the Gangnam Precinct escapes. Contrasting the one she just found, it was a pink background with black font and a square emblem.

“BlackPink in your area…” She said, scrunching her nose. “Just what are they up to?”

You wandered the empty Gangnam streets, surprised at the lack of foot traffic on a random Wednesday afternoon. Not even a full 12 hours have passed since your date and subsequent intimate moment with Son Jooyeon, a colleague you have grown close to ever since she joined the squad, confessing her feelings for you. Not to mention the fact that you and your girlfriend Kim Jiyeon were currently going through a break. Your thoughts are interrupted as you see a woman with long, blonde hair struggle to pick up various congratulatory flower pots. Quickly going to her, you pick up the pot from her arms and bring it inside the shop.

“Oh my, thank you so much!” the woman said, wiping the sweat on her forehead.

“It’s no problem.” you said. “Always happy to help someone in need.” When the two of you make eye contact, you realized she seemed familiar. Stealing a few more glances at her caused you to figure out she was the same woman who helped you choose flowers to bring to Jiyeon at the hospital. It seems she has recognized you as well.

“Oh…” you said to each other.

“Nice to see you again.” the woman said, giving you a smile. Her appearance has changed from the last time you saw her a few days ago. Her long brown hair was now a silky gold color. Her striking makeup was replaced with more natural tones, opting to equip herself with a thin eyeliner and rosy pink lips.

“It’s nice to see you again as well. Didn’t realize I walked all the way over here.” you said, carrying the last of the flower pots inside. As she followed you, she grabbed a spray bottle and tended to the various plants that lined the walls of the boutique. Her side profile caught your attention, as you took notice of her sharp eyes and cute pointed nose.

“So, what brings you by? Did your girlfriend like the flowers you picked out?” She said, returning to the back of the counter to sort through customer’s orders. When she didn’t hear you respond, she turned around and saw the sadness in your eyes. “What happened?”

“She liked the flowers you helped me pick out. But... decided we should take some time apart.” you said, remembering how you accused Jiyeon of being involved in Luda’s case.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…” she said, sincerity heard in her voice.

“Don’t be, it’s alright. She’s a very emotional person so I understand. We’ve had fights before but I kinda messed things up this time so I’m willing to give her all the space she needs.”

“I’m sure everything will work out between you two.” she said, flashing you her trademark smile. She possessed an elegant vibe to her, a classness you could exactly pinpoint specifically. She spoke in a lower register, which was easily complemented by an exotic accent that made every word sound like honey to you.

“Thank you. I couldn’t help but notice your accent. I guess you aren’t from here?” you asked, wanting to smoothly change topics.

“Ah, yes. I’m actually from Australia. I was actually born in Auckland but moved to Melbourne when I was 7. My parents still live out there and my sister visits me here from time to time. But in my heart, I will always be a Kiwi.” she replied.

“I take it you didn’t move all the way over here just to run a flower shop.” you said.

The woman laughed. “No I didn’t, actually. I came here because I wanted to be a singer. I went to many auditions and went through the training process to debut, but it wasn’t my thing. The extreme dieting, the company pointing out every one of my “flaws”. And the hair dye. God, that stupid fucking hair dye. I had to bleach my hair so many times, my scalp is so dry and my hair is fried.” She picked up strands of her hair to show you how damaged it had become, losing its natural oils. Her hair was slightly frizzy and riddled with split ends.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” you said, unsure of what response would be appropriate.

She shook her head. “You know, despite all of that. I don’t regret any of it. The company I was signed to allowed me to meet some really great people. The final lineup for the group I was in contained myself and three other girls. And although we never got to debut, I’m happy. We went through a lot together, and while we now all live separately, it’s in the same apartment complex so we’re practically neighbors.”

“Sounds like all that trouble was worth it if you made such great friends.”

“It was. Although, sometimes I kinda wished we debuted you know? They were planning on having me be the main vocalist.”

“I’d love to hear you sing sometime.”

“Mmm, that depends.”

“On what?” you said, tilting your head in curiosity.

“I don’t sing for free.” she teased.

“I don’t seem to have any money on me at the moment…” you said, rummaging through your pockets and opening up your wallet.

“I’m just kidding.” she said, laughing. “I don’t need the money. Although, I could never say no to a nice meal.”

“Are you asking me out on a date, miss?” you said, raising your eyebrow slightly.

“What, me? I would never.” she replied, feigning innocence. You noticed her cheeks begin to blush slightly as she coughed cutely and turned away.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” you said, laughing slightly. “But I don’t even know your name. Would be rude of me to not know the name of the person I was going on a date with.”

“I-It’s Roseanne.” she said nervously. “Roseanne Park. But here in Korea, I go by Chaeyoung.”

“Roseanne… that’s a pretty name.” you said. “Any preference on what you like to be called?”

“My friends usually call me Rosie or Chaeng. And I formally go by the name Rosé. But you can call me whatever you like. Just as long as you call me later.” she said, handing you a black business card with pink colored font on it. You observed it, taking note of a rose with the petals designed in the shape of a crown.

“I didn’t expect you to be so smooth. Do you always flirt with customers like this?” you asked.

“No no, I’m not that kind of girl. Well... maybe only to the cute ones.” she said, winking playfully. “Just wanted to share a meal as a thank you for helping me out with those pots my friends sent me. And it seems like you could use someone to talk to.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” you said, waving the business card in the air as thanks before heading for the door.

“I’ll be off in a few hours. Call me then.”

You smiled at her and waved as you left. When you disappear from sight, Chaeyoung returned to tending the flowers inside the shop. She hears the bell chime as the door is opened once more.

“You’re back already? I didn’t expect you to-”

Turning around, Chaeyoung is met by a woman with dark hair slightly taller than her. She quickly bows her head in apology, the woman doing the same.

“I’m so sorry. I had a customer leave just now and thought you were them.”

“It’s alright.” the woman said, smiling.

“What brings you in today, ma’am?” Chaeyoung asked.

The woman fumbles around her pockets before taking something out and opening it up.

“Son Jooyeon, Starship Precinct Senior Detective. I was wondering if you’ve seen anything out of the ordinary recently.”

“No, nothing at all. We’ve been closed the past few days as I was recovering from a bad case of a cold.”

“There’s been a string of high profile robberies lately and we’ve been going to each business asking if they’ve seen any suspicious activity. I apologize for the intrusion.”

“Oh no, it’s perfectly fine. You’re just doing your job. I haven’t been here due to being sick. I even have these terrible tasting capsules I have to consume daily.” Chaeyoung said, holding up a bottle with a disgusted look on her face.

Just then, Jooyeon’s phone began to ring.

“Detective Son speaking. Really… Understood. I’ll be there shortly.”

Hanging up, Jooyeon returned her attention to Chaeyoung. “Sorry about that. Thank you again for your cooperation. Have a good day.”

“Wait, Detective!”

Jooyeon turned around. “If you don’t mind me asking, where did you get that flower?” Chaeyoung pointed to the one currently resting inside her hair.

“Ah, it was given to me by someone very special. Have a good day, ma’am.” Jooyeon said, bowing. As she left, Chaeyoung couldn’t help but think about how familiar that specific flower looked.

It didn’t take very long for several hours to pass. You indeed called Chaeyoung, slightly nervous that you would be viewed as desperate to accept her offer if you did so too early. She told you to give her an extra hour in order to freshen up and prepare for the date, texting you her address and the location of the restaurant you two would be eating at. You decided to take the time to have yourself presentable as well.

Arriving outside what you believed to be was her apartment complex, you were barely able to release a hi as Chaeyoung excitedly told you to start driving. Neither of you spoke during the car ride as she cycled through the various radio stations and recited the lyrics to the various songs she liked. Her sweet voice filled the vehicle with happiness as the two of you drove to the restaurant’s location.

Once you arrived, and earned compliments from Chaeyoung by placing your hand on the passenger side headrest while reversing the vehicle with your left hand, you arrived at the location of your date. The outside of the restaurant looked dated, paint chipping on the walls and windows that have been scratched up. Getting out of the vehicle, you quickly ran to the passenger’s side and opened the door for Chaeyoung.

“Such a gentleman.” she said, accepting your hand to help her out of the car.

Park Chaeyoung wore a very elegant look - black skinny jeans that showed off her long legs and nicely sculpted thighs, a white button up shirt tucked in with a skinny black tie, a heather gray blazer that complimented her outfit nicely even though it was slightly big on her, and a white designer bag that she wore on her body. Her blonde hair that she cursed about was neatly combed, not a singular hair out of place. The black knee high boots she wore were so perfectly fitting, you weren’t sure where they ended and her jeans began. She wore minimal makeup, choosing only to equip herself with pink lipstick. The people who passed by began to silently whisper to each other about how beautiful she looked. Chaeyoung looked ready to have her photo taken on a fashion runway in any minute, not having dinner with a customer she asked out.

“Your finest bottle of red wine, please.” Chaeyoung said as she handed the menu to the waiter. Looking at you, you quickly told the waiter your order and followed suit.

“Isn’t this place a bit too fancy?” you asked, scanning the room. All the employees wore black ties. You knew this was a fancy restaurant the moment you saw the waiters draping a towel on their arm as they tipped the wine bottle without letting the tip hit the rim of the glass. But what really tipped you off were the prices and the various plates of food arriving. The small portions of food inside such large plates.

“The steak here is amazing. And the lobster is caught fresh everyday.” Chaeyoung said. “Plus, it’s your treat.”

“I’m sorry, what?” you said, coughing after you drank water too quickly while listening to her talk. She looked at you confused.

“You’re the one who asked me out. Shouldn’t the person who does so pay?”

“But you’re the guy. Think about how people would react if I had to pay for the meal.”

“Wow, you really are something Park Chaeyoung. Times really should change. Women are able to pay fully for dates too.” you replied.

“So tell me about yourself.” Chaeyoung said as the food arrived. She cut into her steak delicately, the meat sliced with little pressure from the knife as your eyes are met with a perfectly medium rare center. Taking the piece in her fork, she uses it to wipe the sauce on her plate before putting it into her mouth. Despite the elegant environment, Chaeyoung stuffed her face. You smiled seeing her cute cheeks expand with food as she hums in satisfaction with each bite. And while you still weren’t sure if this was a date or not, you were happy to spend time with a beautiful woman who could eat well.

“What’s there to say… my life is pretty boring. Everyone thinks being a detective means I get to experience dead bodies or intense hostage situations on a daily basis. But really, it’s a lot of paperwork and sitting in front of a computer. I graduated from the academy a bit later than others. Being a beat cop for a year was very boring. During my very first field assignment, I forgot to carry a set of cuffs. I’ve had the same routine for the past four years up until three days ago. For the first time in forever, I have more time to myself than I know what to do with. So, I’m just taking things day by day.”

When you finally finished talking, you saw Chaeyoung staring at you. Her mouth was agape as the piece of steak on her fork was raised midair. You laughed at seeing her in shock. Snapping your fingers, her attention returned to you.

“Was I boring you?” you said, laughing.

“No! No, it’s just... that sounded so cool.” Chaeyoung said, choosing her words carefully. “I wish I had more structure in my life. It feels like I’m finally able to do what I want but don’t know where to begin.”

“Sometimes it’s nice to be free. Live in the moment and let things happen. Too much structure and routine is a hard habit to break.”

Chaeyoung smiles at you as she finishes her glass of wine and flags down the waitress to ask for another bottle. You sighed, your wallet was going to cry by the time the meal was over.

With both of your stomachs full - Chaeyoung’s more than yours, you sat inside your car and relaxed. You almost went into cardiac arrest once the waiter arrived with the final bill, but seeing her beautiful eye smile caused you to shake your head and smile as you gave them your card and signed the check.

At her insistence, the two of you drove to a bubble tea shop. You claimed to be full - an obvious excuse as you didn’t want your wallet to bleed any further. Chaeyoung hit your shoulder as she realized what you meant and told you she would pay. After waiting several minutes, Chaeyoung hears her name being called and picked up her order. Holding onto the tray, she hands you a bubble tea.

“What’s this?” you asked.

“Something sweet as a thank you for paying.” Chaeyoung said as she sipped her bubble tea cutely. You watched her cheeks huff as she closed her eyes in excitement.

While the two of you consume your drinks, you tell her about a story from your rookie days when you overslept and left your house so quickly, you forgot to put on pants. She laughed at every joke, even some that weren’t funny at all. You were thankful, enjoying her company as it provided you a distraction from your current struggles in the romance department.

Your conversation is cut short when the both of you feel droplets hitting you. Looking down, you see the cold sidewalk begin to be pelted with polka dot stains that gradually increase into pouring rain. The customers enjoying their drinks and the nighttime ambience quickly enter the shop, as you look to Chaeyoung and seemingly tell her to head to the car with your eyes. Neither of you carrying an umbrella, you do your best to shield her from the rain with your hands while the two of you run to the car.

The two of you set off aimlessly, the windshield wipers set on the maximum setting as you try your best to make out the road ahead of you. You look to your side and see Chaeyoung visibly nervous. She looks back at you when she feels your hand placed atop hers as you gently squeeze it and give her a warm smile.

“It’s pouring out there. I don’t think we’ll be able to get home. It’s not safe to drive right now.” you said.

“There’s a hotel a few miles from where we’re currently at.” Chaeyoung said, scrolling through her phone.

“You sure that’s okay?”

“It’s either that or we risk our lives in the blinding rain.”

“Fair enough. Just input the address in the navigation system.”

What should have been a 20 minute drive became 40 as the directions sent you off in a route that was longer than needed. Wanting to give up half an hour in, Chaeyoung provided moral support and cheered you on when you took a 5 minute breather. Luckily, there was one open vacancy available when you arrived.

The room was simple yet fairly spacious. One bed, a large desk with a built in television and writing area, a mini fridge fully stocked with overpriced snacks, and a balcony with what normally has a nice view of Seoul’s downtown area. Entering the bathroom, you noticed it fully stocked as well along with two pearly white bathrobes. Grabbing a towel, you freshen up by splashing cold water on your face. Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you wondered how you got into this situation.

You were thankful for a fun day with Chaeyoung, but expected to be relaxing in your own apartment by now, not in a hotel room very late at night. When you exited, you saw Chaeyoung trying to reach for the window curtain wand to give the room more privacy. You laughed softly seeing her struggle and chose to observe her. She tries with all of her might, standing on her tiptoes. Finally getting the wand she turns around and is greeted by you smiling at her. Feeling embarrassed, she turns around quickly before stumbling her footing. Seeing her about to fall, you managed to grab onto her before the two of you landed on the bed. The two of you locked eyes, both of you having neutral expressions. You can hear your heartbeat rapidly increasing as you feel Chaeyoung’s soft breath coming from her nose.

“I should go take a bath…” you said, trying to excuse yourself from the situation. Slowly getting up, you feel yourself pushed back onto the bed as Chaeyoung’s expression has changed. No longer was the shy, innocent woman staring at you. The look you saw in her eyes was one you knew all too well, a look that Jiyeon gave you at work whenever she felt stressed. Lust.

“Stay. I… I want you. Please.” Chaeyoung begged, her accent lacing each word with pure seduction.

The seriousness of her tone left you far more aroused than you would like to admit. Chaeyoung leaned down and pressed her lips against yours. They had a unique softness to them, feeling like they could melt away from the heat your own were providing. Your breaths began to get heavy as your arms wrapped behind her back and pulled her closer to you. Chaeyoung nibbled on your lower lip, allowing further entry as she pushed her tongue inside your mouth. The two of you fought for control over the other as you helped her out of her coat. Chaeyoung rolled over so that you were on top of her as you both began unbuttoning each other’s shirts. She quickly loosened her tie and threw it into a far off corner of the room.

Both of your tongues and hands explored and searched each other. Your mouths locked together the entire time, with your hands wanting to explore her milky soft skin, slightly annoyed at her cute yet still present clothing being worn. Freeing each other of your shirts, you see Chaeyoung shyly brush as her lacy red bra is exposed to you. Her breasts were on the smaller side, but enough of a handful for you to play with.

Wanting to be back on the bottom, the two of you free each other of your pants until you are both left in your underwear. Chaeyoung’s cute bubble butt complimented her thighs, which were now locked onto your lap. You felt her rub her crotch back and forth against your cloth imprisoned shaft. Running your hands across her smooth thighs, you stop when it is in front of her underwear. You felt the heat radiating from her, Chaeyoung’s perfume hypnotizing you with its intoxicating smell. Grabbing onto her hips, you gently lower her back onto the bed. Your hands move back down, grasping the helm of her sheer laced panties and pull them down. You find, much to your delight, that she is already leaking as it dribbles out of her.

Pulling you back in for a kiss, you reciprocate her earlier action and bite her lower lip while simultaneously sucking on it. Chaeyoung moans as you leave a trail of kisses down her neck and chest, coating her skin and faintest amount of cleavage with your saliva. Your kisses continue as you make sure not to leave out her tummy. Chaeyoung’s moans rapidly increase in volume as you get closer to her thighs. Upon reaching the inner apex of them, you add strong licks and paint her inner creases with your tongue. You lick your lips in satisfaction upon being face to face with her inviting warmth.

You marvel at the sight of her long, milky legs as her soft thighs do little to prevent them from being closed. As her lips glisten from her juices, you watched Chaeyoung gently run her middle finger between her folds until it reaches the bottom. Dragging it slowly upward, she adds her index finger and traces the outline of her lips. She touches herself softly, her erotic moans complemented by her accent. You watched her eyes slowly close as the pleasure began to course through her body. Her breathing becomes hitched, but she manages to regain enough composure to open her eyes and smile seeing you enamoured by the show she is displaying for you. Her voice has become soft, but no less lacking in desire.

“Please… taste me.”

You returned to the previous position you were in when you removed her panties, swiftly removing your boxers and freeing your hard cock. Controlling yourself, you began by planting soft kisses on her thighs. You enjoyed the feeling of her soft, milky skin each time your lips made contact with them. You caressed her legs, taking note of how muscled yet tender her skin was at the same time. Chaeyoung’s body was slim, but her thighs were a sight to behold.

You continued leaving kisses, repeating the process on her other leg until you were finally back where you started - in between her legs. Believing you have given an adequate amount of time for foreplay and teasing, you dive right in. You stick your tongue out to taste the bottom of her slit. Chaeyoung gasps as she feels you make contact with her for the very first time. Her gasps quickly turn into long, satisfied moans as you press your tongue against her lips and give her deep, strong licks.

You wanted to savor every inch of Chaeyoung, a woman you’ve only met twice and were technically still on a date with at the moment. Her drawn out, erotic melody moans keep your attention focused on what is in front of you. Giving her slow licks, you savor the rapidly dampening flesh until you finally suck her clit.

“Oh fuck, that feels so good.”

Chaeyoung runs her fingers through your hair until it rests behind your head. Using both of her hands, you feel her nails digging into your scalp. It is painful, but is well worth it knowing you’re giving her body pleasure. The moans that escape her mouth each time you lick and suck her delicious folds motivates you to continue.

You hold onto her hips as your thumbs gently part her lips even more. The wet flesh feels so soft and inviting. You move your tongue in a wave motion as you give her rapid fast licks. You consumed the nectar leaking out of her, savoring its sweet taste. Getting accustomed to you eating her pussy, Chaeyoung was not prepared when you surprised her by biting her clit.

“Oh… fuck!” she shouted, closing her eyes as her voice was so intense that the pleasure coursed through her body. A bit surprised at how suddenly she came, you are quickly pushed between her legs. Chaeyoung feels the same way as she wraps her legs behind you and pushes your head deeper. Her taste and aroma felt intoxicating, the both of you experiencing a high that could not be replicated by any drug.

Eventually, her body stops violently shaking as her body tense up. She was unable to move her limbs from the pleasure. You were content with yourself, satisfied at your partner’s reaction to your oral skills. You consumed whatever you could, replacing her leaking juices with kisses all over her lower body as you waited for her to recover.

“Fuck… that was… fuck…”

She finally opened her eyes and saw you licking your lips, enjoying the taste of her juices on your tongue. You gave her pussy a deep, long kiss before mirroring your earlier actions and replacing your soft kisses on her tummy earlier. Reaching behind herself, Chaeyoung unhooks her bra and finally frees her chest.

Her eyes were a mix of slight satisfaction and another emotion you couldn’t quite tell. It looked like an unquenchable lust. But it carried a heaviness to it, an appearance of a woman who wanted to be loved.

You climbed back upwards until you were both at eye level, your arms supporting yourself on the bed. Chaeyoung gives you the same sweet smile from earlier at the bubble tea shop that warms your heart as you lower your face to hers and press your own lips against hers. The two of you shared a rather passionate kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck as you feel her legs spread open. She whines softly when you break the kiss, but it quickly becomes a moan as her soft skin is given copious amounts of kisses on her cheeks, neck and upper chest.

Bringing your hand to her right breast, you fondle it as your mouth takes in her left breast. Her nipple begins to harden as you tease it with your tongue. The breast you are fondling is given the same treatment as you gently rub it between your index finger and thumb, pinching it gently. Although they were small, her breasts were inviting. You truly wanted to savor Chaeyoung’s skin, as her long, drawn out sultry moans let you know she was enjoying it as much as you.

Your eyes were on Chaeyoung the entire time. Seeing her head tilt back as the steady stream of moans continued. She looked down and seemed to have read your mind.

“C-Can… Can you fuck me now? Please. Fuck me, please baby.”

As you line your bodies up, you are about to tease her when you feel Chaeyoung grab onto your thighs.

“I… want to be fucked from behind.” she said, her words mere needy whispers.

Giving yourself a few quick strokes, you roll Chaeyoung onto her stomach before pushing yourself forward into her wet pussy. Few feelings could outdo the sensation of entering a woman for the very first time. Despite the many times you’ve done so, it always gave you genuine excitement and satisfaction. Jiyeon and Jooyeon were tight in their own regard, but Chaeyoung made them feel like a hollowed out cave.

Chaeyoung’s body reacted to you being inside her by moving her hips and cute round butt against your cock. Both of you savored the feeling of your hard flesh inside her pussy.

“Oh fuck, baby… Fuck me… Please fuck me…”

Removing your cock from her body, you are delighted to see it glistening in her juices as it appears from between her soft buttcheeks. You withdraw yourself until only the tip of your cock is left inside her before thrusting back inside, your shaft spreading her lips and entering her warm, inviting flesh.

It doesn’t take very long for you to establish a rhythm with which to fuck Chaeyoung from behind with. Having sex with a woman on her hands and knees in front of you was your favorite position - next to a woman being on her knees with your cock in her mouth. And while you’ve had your fair share of women before Jiyeon that you considered to be tight, all of them would be put to shame by Chaeyoung. Unlike sex with Jooyeon, a coworker and close friend, sex with Chaeyoung was quite possibly on par with Jiyeon - an affirmation of a romantic relationship between two people who discovered feelings for each other. While it was still the physical action of sex, it was a way your bodies spoke to each other to confirm your feelings through pleasure.

You felt Chaeyoung’s hips wriggle with each thrust of your own inside her body. Her moans increase in volume while being what you believed, individual in the way you were pleasuring her. The wet, hot feeling of her pussy wrapped around your cock was incredible.

Having used her hips for support, you bring your hands to her ass, firmly squeezing her cheeks with both hands. You were delighted to see them create soft ripples with each collision of your crotch against hers. Chaeyoung gasps in surprise when she feels you give her ass a spank.

“Baby, fuck me… Fuck me harder.” She gasps. Chaeyoung no longer wanted to be fucked by you. She wanted pure pleasure.

You satisfied her desires, giving her hard, deep thrusts as your cock moved in and out of the tight grip of her pussy.

Holy fuck… Yes! Oh yes!” she screamed, throwing her head back as you increased the pace. “Fuck me just like that!”

Through your repeated thrusts, you seemed to have discovered a sweet spot that gives Chaeyoung the most amount of pleasure. It takes you a few tries, but soon your cock is repeatedly hitting that spot as you maintain the same speed and depth of your thrusts. You know it won’t be long until her orgasm arrives, having seen the same signs from Jooyeon and Jiyeon - the ever increasing volume of her moans, the way her fists grasp onto the sheets for support as the pleasure courses throughout her entire body, and of course the way her hot, tight pussy maintains a firm hold on your cock.

“Baby… I’m about to cum! I’m gonna cum so hard!”

“Do it, Chaeyoung. Cum on my cock. Surrender yourself to pleasure and cum for me!”

“Baby… I’m cumming! Oh, fuck!”

Chaeyoung’s body tightens up as the pressure explodes, her pussy clamps down hard on your cock. You wanted to keep thrusting into her hard, but her orgasm has made her pussy far too tight for you to continue. Her cute, small fists form a deadly grip on the bedsheets below as her face sinks down onto the soft cotton pillow. You see her arms give out as her upper body collapses onto the bed.

The sound Chaeyoung made is the same sound you hear when a woman orgasms, an erotic sound that will never be old to you.

Chaeyoung’s second orgasm of the night was even more intense than the first, and as such, takes her several minutes to recover from. You relished at the sight of her body still bent over in front of you, your cock still inside her tight pussy. The light from above gave you a good view of her toned back that was lined with sweat.

“Baby… holy fuck, that was amazing.” she said, panting heavily.

You smiled at her words, giving a gentle squeeze on both of her asscheeks as a response.

“I want you to keep fucking me, baby.”

Drawing your cock out of her body, you watch as Chaeyoung straddles your lap. Thinking she was going to turn around and face you, Chaeyoung shoots down that theory as she strokes your cock before lowering herself onto it. You are given an alluring view of her sweaty back as she starts riding you. Her round ass slams down against your crotch with each movement of her hips. She was slim, but contained a small amount of curves in the right locations as you slap her ass cheek with a flat palm.

Chaeyoung throws her head back and lets out erotic, satisfied moans with each slap on her ass.

“Does Chaeyoung love getting her ass slapped like this?” you asked, knowing full well what her response will be.

“Y-Yes, ah!” Chaeyoung moaned. “Is my p-pussy tight enough for you?”

“I think it could be tighter.” you teased.

“Make me cum again and it will.”

Chaeyoung fucks herself on your cock for a few more minutes before regretfully removing her body from yours. You whined softly at the feeling of no longer being inside her, but it is short-lived as Chaeyoung gets off the bed and gets on her knees. She extends her hands out for yours as you take them and stand in front of her.

Her eyes remained fixed on you, taking her position between your spread legs. You looked down and saw her beautiful face filled with lust.

She takes you inside her mouth, your cock drenched in her juices. She bobs her head quickly, working on your cock as her tongue paints your underside and her hands massage your balls and thighs. Her tongue swirls around the tip of your cock, satisfied at how sensitive your tip is to her touch.

Chaeyoung’s moans send vibrations of pleasure throughout your cock, as you savor the delicious tingles of her mouth around your shaft. Her ultimate goal was to give you the very same pleasure you gave her.

“Chaeyoung… I’m… I’m close.”

“I knew you wouldn’t be able to last much longer in my tight pussy. And while I’m sure you want nothing more than to cum inside me, I want you to watch me swallow your cum.” Chaeyoung said softly as she took your cock back inside her sweet, wet lips.

Her beautiful brown eyes met yours as her lips formed an airtight seal around your cock. Her slim fingers massaging your balls was too much for you to handle.

“I’m cumming…” you say as your orgasm finally arrives. You bobbed her head up and down as quickly as you can before pushing her head all the way down to your base. Your cock throbbed as it releases hot, thick semen into Chaeyoung’s warm and inviting mouth. She manages to push her head back from your hold, opening her mouth to allow you to see your cum shoot into her mouth, painting her tongue and back of her mouth a milky white color. Her eyes crinkle in satisfaction, seeing your face riddled with pleasure.

You were surprised you managed to keep your eyes open the entire time you came. This was the first time you ever saw yourself cumming inside a woman’s mouth. And it was safe to say, it certainly wouldn’t be the last. When you finally finished, you watched Chaeyoung wipe her lips to catch the remaining droplets of cum before closing her mouth and swallowing your load down her throat. She sticks her bright pink tongue out at you with a satisfied hum and laugh, letting you know she enjoyed your tasty treat.

You collapsed back onto the bed, completely exhausted. Chaeyoung climbed on the bed shortly after, licking your cock clean before making her way on top of you. Your foreheads rested against each other, before she cupped your cheeks and gave you a deep, passionate kiss. You opened your eyes and found yourselves staring at each other longingly.

“That was amazing…” you said, mirroring her earlier sentiments.

“You were too, baby. You made me feel like a lovesick girl.” she said, pushing back her damp blonde hair.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It doesn’t matter.” she said. “You really were amazing, though. I’ve never been fucked like that before. That was the most incredible sex I’ve ever had.”

You smiled as she began tracing a finger across your chest.

Chaeyoung gave you even more loving kisses as she feels your cock slowly start to harden underneath her.

“Bad boy…” she said, reaching behind her to grab a hold of your shaft. “Already so hard for me again.”

“What can I say, you know how to make a person want more.” you said, resting your hands on her ass before giving her a firm squeeze. Chaeyoung playfully hits your shoulder in response.

Just as she is spreading her legs and lowering her body back onto yours, your phone suddenly rings. You give each of her asscheeks a slap before gently removing her body off yours.

You grabbed your phone from the desk and quickly headed out to the balcony.

Chaeyoung sits up on the bed and wraps her body in the comforter. At the nightstand next to her, she hears her own phone begin to ring.

“Hello?”

“Mudkip, it’s Hyunjung.”

“Hi, Lieutenant. You know I hate that nickname.” you sighed. “What’s up?”

“I’m not even supposed to be doing this since you’re still suspended, but I cashed in my redemption. Your request has been fulfilled.”

“Really? That’s great news. Thanks so much.”

“Are you sure this person can help us? From my brief conversation with them, they didn’t seem too happy when your name was mentioned.”

“They can… if anyone is going to be able to help us, it’s them.”

“Understood. Be safe, okay? Your suspension ends on Monday.”

“I know. Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. But if you really want to thank me, bring me some bubble tea when you return. Hyunjung loves bubble tea.”

“Hyunjung really does love her bubble tea…” you replied. “Thanks again, I’ll see you Monday.”

“Chaeyoung… is your mission complete?”

“Yes, unnie. I made contact with him and got the digital imprint of his phone like you asked.”

“Good. So… how was he? How big was he? He better not be like that last guy you slept with.”

Chaeyoung sighed. “Yes Jennie unnie, he was big. I don’t know why you have to ask that every time I sleep with a guy.”

Seeing you enter from the balcony, Chaeyoung whispers quietly into the phone. “I’ll call you later.”

“Are you ready for round two?” she asked, ending the call as she turns around and cutely wags her butt at you.

“Chaeyoung…” you said. Noticing the seriousness in your voice, she turned around and faced you.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something came up, I have to leave.”

“What, right now? But we were about to start round two, where we get in the shower and fuck me until I can’t stand.”

“I know, and I really want to. But it’s important. You understand, right?”

“I do…” she said, pouting. She smiled weakly as you planted a long, tender kiss on her lips.

“I’ll be back soon.”

As you quickly dress up and leave Chaeyoung by herself, you give her one final wave before exiting the room. Chaeyoung sighs as she stares at a black domino mask and pearl necklace.

“I really like him… but we can never be together. Especially when he finds out who I am.”

The meeting location the Lieutenant gave you was not too far from the hotel. Thankfully, the storm has passed as the smell of rain perfumed the nighttime air. You finally reached your destination 10 minutes later.

Entering it, you scan the cafe until you find the person you were looking for. Approaching them, you see them sipping on a piping hot cup of tea. You timidly sit across from them.

“Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice.” you said.

The person doesn’t respond, sipping their cup of tea instead.

“How have… you been?” you continued. You watched as they finally lowered their cup.

“You know she will kill me if she found out I agreed to meet you.”

“What can you tell me about the robbery that happened a few days ago?” you said, your tone becoming serious.

They looked at you intently, before sighing and taking out a case file from their bag.

“Four women. They hit hard and strike like thunder. They wore masks and left no traces of print or hair. They clearly know what they are doing. Stole a couple million in jewels and denominations.”

“What about the security system?”

“Disabled. Along with CCTV. One of them was believed to be disguised as a repairer. They work in pairs. Two act as bait while the other two sneak underground and execute the plan.”

“They’ve never been ID’d?”

The person shook their head. “Nothing in our database at all. Whoever they are, they’re a ghost in the system’s eyes.”

“But…” they said, causing your eyebrow to raise. “I have a hunch on who. Interpol sent these in this morning.”

They handed you another envelope containing four photos. The first three seemed unfamiliar causing you to pay no attention to them. That is - until you reached the last photo.

“Are these legitimate?”

“You know Interpol wouldn’t send us fakes. Why?”

“This person.” you said, holding up the photo.

“She has the second highest bounty. Interpol has a file on her in several other countries, namely Australia and New Zealand.” They noticed your expression changing. “Why?” they repeated.

“I was just with her…” you said.

“How is she?” you said, changing your tone to let them know you were talking about someone else. “I heard she’s Captain now.”

“I still don’t know why I’m here. Your Lieutenant told me you were still suspended. I could lose my job for talking to you about work off the clock.”

“You know she and I didn’t end on good terms and that affected a lot of my relationships with people. Especially ours, you and I were best friends.”

“Please…” you continued. “You know I wouldn’t ask you in this way if I had any other choice.”

“I need your help. I need your help, Kim Bora.”

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