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not-neverland06 · 4 months

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How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried.

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen.

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you.

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway.

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph.

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk.

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over.

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern.

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.”

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should.

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage.

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth.

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled.

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken.

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass.

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest.

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds.

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled.

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means.

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach.

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with.

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast.

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again.

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up.

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl.

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper.

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit.

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks.

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem.

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself.

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous.

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies.

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose.

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t.

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder.

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy.

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now.

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands.

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign.

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs.

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible.

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it.

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face.

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table.

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough.

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake.

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better, but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him.

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now.

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?”

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that.

“That was a mistake,” you muttered.

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach.

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse.

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway.

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again.

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man.

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul.

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her.

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip.

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up.

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside.

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room.

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on.

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought.

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open.

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her.

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms.

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it.

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower.

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further.

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this.

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room.

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in.

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before.

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out.

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him.

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed.

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again.

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane.

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot.

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted.

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward.

“What’s wrong with you now?”

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face.

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games.

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again.

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore.

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now.

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did.

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention.

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty.

She’ll be better off here.

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass.

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard #the ghoul

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boredsupergirl · 1 month

Note

Patrick hockstetter smut?

Warnings: without protection, dubcon if you squint, outdoors

The grass tickled your spine. You looked around as if anyone in Derry cared what anyone else was doing. His hair partially touched your neck as you heard his sardonic laugh right next to your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “No one will see” Hockstetter assured, giving passionate kisses in between rough bites and licks of the gushing blood. “Even if they saw…I don’t care” “You don’t care” You replied. “But I do care, they’ll talk bad about me” Hockstetter paused for a moment, staring at you, inches from your mouth…with predatory, judging eyes. He wasn’t happy. You suddenly felt very scared, because for a moment you forgot how dangerous he could be. “Well, I’ll make sure they see then” He smirked. “So everyone knows you're mine.” “Wait, Patri…” He interrupted you by giving you a fierce kiss, while caressing your leg and squeezing the flesh as if he wanted to have you close to his body forever. He went down your body, running over it, kissing from your neck to your center. You felt his lips leaving marks on your body that he wouldn't let you hide. You resigned yourself by relaxing your head, letting the grass tangle with your hair, while you dedicated yourself to enjoying the displays of desire he was giving you. You suddenly moaned when his lips made contact with your sex, giving hurried and careless licks; even though he wasn't too good at giving pleasure and being particularly careful, you still enjoyed it, because the scenario was exciting: you escaping to the wooded area, near the city, anyone could have escaped and seen you in that state. If Patrick didn't care and therefore neither did you. Your reputation was already ruined anyway. He pulled away from you and quickly flipped you over, lying face down, feeling the grass moistening your cheek. Your body was covered in his hickeys, saliva, and the grass that stuck to your skin. He made you look wild, completely opposite to him, who was fully clothed, except for the button of his pants undone. Yes, your reputation was already ruined. He placed both hands on your ass and spanked you hard enough to leave his mark there. He penetrated you, entering easily thanks to the stimulation he gave you earlier, mentally thanking him for doing so, even though he himself usually focused mainly on his pleasure. His thrusts were frenzied and your moans gave him a feeling of power, he just wanted someone to pass by. To see you and spread the rumor that the bitch from the Bowers gang was an exhibitionist without any kind of limits or shame. And then torture them for speaking ill of you. It was sick, absolutely maddening. Pain and pleasure were a perfect combination in you, the pleasure building up in your lower stomach, slowly dissolving, without being able to control your gasps and moans that could have alerted someone passing by. Your release came shaking your whole body, while he laughed. He laughed at you. Your reputation was already ruined anyway.

#patrick hockstetter #patrick hocksetter x reader #bowers gang x reader #bowers gang #it 2017 #it chapter one #Patrick hockstetter x reader

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britany1997 · 2 years

Note

Could you do a poly with the boys being mated to a girl that just so happens to be maxes daughter?

Fate Yields For No One

Prologue

Yes of course I can write this for you! Sorry I got this forever ago, I really wanted to make it into a multi chapter fic:) I hope this series will be worth the wait. Comment or DM to be tagged in this series or in my main list:)

Poly! Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

(I don’t know when the next installment will be out, but there will be more chapters, at least 4-5)

Warnings: angst, talk of death, blood drinking, dub-con turning

California, 1935

You clutched the wall as you stumbled into an alley, coughing loudly into your bloodied handkerchief.

You leaned against the wall, sliding down until you were seated on the grimey alley floor. You pulled the cloth from your lips, hand shaking to see it splattered with the evidence of your impending doom.

Tears rolled down your cheeks as you recalled the fall of each and every member of your family to the same tragic fate.

The Depression had robbed your father of his job, and then your family of its home, forcing you to live a life on the cold California streets, begging for whatever scraps the wealthy were willing to give.

The spread of tuberculosis had gripped the homeless population in your town, and your family had not been immune.

You’d cradled your mother as she’d sobbed for your father. You’d mothered your siblings when she had left you too. Now you were the only one left, and it didn’t look like you’d be here much longer.

You withdrew into yourself, attempting to quiet the world around you, resigned to the conclusion that you’d be rid of it soon.

Which is why you didn’t hear footsteps approaching until a tall gentleman appeared at your side.

He was dressed in a form fitting grey suit paired with black dress shoes. His brown hair was slicked back in typical fashion, and perched on the bridge of his nose were a pair of wire rimmed glasses.

You couldn’t help but think he looked like the kind of man you’d meet on Wall Street, and not in this damp alley where forgotten youths like yourself came to die.

You coughed into the handkerchief again, staining it further. “Please,” you croaked, “are you a doctor? Can you help me?”

The man crouched down to examine your face. You gasped at his disregard for his fine clothing, and his immediate interest in you.

He shot you a soft smile, “I am not a doctor,” he told you, “but I can help you.”

He took your hand in his, smiling wider at your shocked expression, “what if I told you that I could do more than heal you? What if I could restore your life and then some? Would you want that?” He whispered, seemingly staring into your soul as he asked.

A tear slipped down your cheek as you returned his gaze, “I’m not ready to die,” you strained, “I’m so scared. Please don’t let me die, not like this.” You begged, searching his eyes for assurance that he wasn’t just toying with you.

The man sighed, “ok,” he breathed, “I’ll give you what you want.”

His eyes scanned over your broken body, slumped against the alley wall, and he cringed.

“I am truly sorry that there isn’t enough time to do this the gentle way,” he raised his hand to stroke your cheek, “I hope you can forgive me.”

As he finished speaking, his face shifted. His once brown eyes flashed a bright yellow. His teeth elongated into sharp fangs. The man had vanished, and before you crouched a monster.

You would have screamed if you’d had anything left in your lungs, but unfortunately the sands in your hourglass were almost up.

The monster lunged for your neck and bit down, draining the remaining life force from your body. As you faded into blackness, you scolded yourself for trusting this wolf in sheep’s clothing. You knew your error in judgment would be your last.

The monster pulled away from your neck, and you watched with blurred vision as he used his menacing fangs to tear into his wrist.

He brought his wrist to your lips, and wrapped a hand around the back of your head to pull you closer.

You fought to stay conscious as the monster’s blood dripped onto your tongue, but against your will, your eyes fluttered shut and your vision faded to black.

Taglist❤️:

@anna1306 @bloodywickedvamp @misslavenderlady @ghoulgeousimmaculate @6lostgirl6 @pixielostboy @riz-coolgirl @solobagginses @its-freaking-bats @xxryn @honeybedo @dwaynesluscioushair @feardot-com @lostboys1987girl @altierirose

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ducktoo · 7 days

Text

Syncing Dream [Aespa x M!Reader]

4. Day off…not?

Note: just fluff

Y/n woke up to the sound of nothing. No buzzing alarms, no frantic phone calls about schedules, and no urgent notifications lighting up his screen. For the first time in what felt like forever, it was quiet. He stretched lazily, savouring the peace. It took him a moment to remember what was so special about today—his first day off in weeks.

"Finally," he muttered with a smile, sinking deeper into his pillow. No errands, no last-minute crises, just a day to himself. Maybe he’d stay in bed all day, watch some TV, or—

Ding. The unmistakable sound of a text message cut through the silence.

“Please don’t be whoever I think it is..” Y/n groaned and lazily reached for his phone on the nightstand. It couldn’t be work; the staff knew he was off today. Still, out of habit, he checked the screen.

Ningning:

Oppa, can you do me a huuuge favor?

“Yizhuo, u kidding me…”

Y/n rubbed his eyes, blinking at the message. He hesitated, half-considering ignoring it, but something told him that wasn’t an option. His thumbs hovered over the screen before he typed a quick reply.

Y/n:

Ning, it’s my day off.

He felt a small surge of pride for setting boundaries. Today was about him. He wouldn’t get sucked into their usual chaos—

Ding.

Ningning:

But I forgot to pick up my laundryyyyy 🥺 Please, Oppa, I’ll owe you big time!

Y/n sighed, the hint of a smile tugging at his lips. Of course, Ningning had a way of getting what she wanted. He typed out a reluctant, “fine,” and tossed the phone aside. Maybe he could do just this one thing. How hard could it be?

As he moved to get dressed, his phone buzzed again.

Ding.

Giselle:

Y/n, I think I lost my keys… help?

Y/n stopped mid-motion.

“Seriously?” He thought, staring at the screen. This was supposed to be his day off. He shook his head and responded.

Y/n:

Aeri, it’s my day off.

Ding.

Giselle:

I knooow, but it’s an emergency!

Sighing deeply, Y/n realised the quiet, relaxing day he had envisioned was rapidly slipping away. He grabbed his jacket and keys, already resigned to his fate. First stop, laundry for Ningning.

The laundromat wasn’t far from aespa’s dorm, so Y/n made quick work of grabbing Ningning’s clothes and heading to drop them off. On the way, his phone buzzed again. He didn’t even need to check the notification to know who it was.

As always, the comedy (pain) comes in 3 acts.

Winter:

Pabooo, can you get me some snacks? You know the ones I eat all the time. Pleaseee?

Y/n:

You do realise I’m not working today, right?

Winter:

That’s why I’m asking! You’ll be free later, right?

Y/n:

You dipsh-

Y/n sighed. He couldn’t win with these girls. After dropping off Ningning’s laundry and being thanked with a bright grin and a peace sign, he made his way to the convenience store. If he was going to spend his day off like this, he might as well commit.

By the time Y/n reached aespa’s dorm, bags in hand, he felt more like a delivery boy than a manager. He pushed open the door, greeted by a mix of tired-but-not-really faces and a familiar tension in the air—mostly from Karina, who barely acknowledged him with a curt nod.

"Didn’t expect you here on your day off," Karina said, arms crossed, her tone neutral, but Y/n could feel the underlying coolness. She still wasn’t completely over the fact that he had been thrust into the role of their manager with little experience.

"Yeah, well, apparently days off don’t exist when you’re the manager," Y/n replied dryly, his eyes briefly meeting hers before shifting to Winter, who was eagerly waiting for her snacks.

Winter popped her head out of the practice room and grinned. "Let’s goooo, good job, Y/n!” she chirped, grabbing the snacks he had brought. "I knew you couldn’t resist helping your best friend."

"I had a flipping choice?" Y/n quipped, though he couldn’t help but smile. He watched Winter tear into the bag like a kid on Christmas, feeling the warmth of their friendship creep in. Despite the tension with Karina, Winter’s presence always brought a sense of ease.

Karina, though, stayed reserved. Even now, after weeks of working together, there was still a quiet unease between them. It wasn’t like they openly disliked each other, but there was something unsaid lingering between every glance and conversation.

Later that day, Y/n had finally managed to leave the girls alone and get some semblance of quiet when his phone buzzed again.

Ding.

Giselle:

Any update on my keys?

Y/n rolled his eyes. He had scoured half the dorm for those stupid keys, and they were nowhere to be found. He groaned, heading back to the practice room where Giselle was crouching on the floor.

"Aeri" he sighed, "Where did you even lose them?”

"If I knew, I wouldn’t have lost them, would I?” she replied with a grin, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Karina, who came to help out, leaning against the wall with her arms folded, shot Y/n a look, as if to say, “You see what I deal with?”

"Let’s retrace your steps, I guess," Y/n said, rubbing his temples, though he couldn’t help but smirk at Giselle’s casual attitude. Karina reluctantly followed suit.

As Y/n sat up from the couch he accidentally crashed in aespa’s dorm, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, the sound of giggling caught his attention. Ningning, Winter, and Giselle stood over him, smirking in a way that made him feel a little uneasy.

"Good morning, oppa," Ningning teased, barely containing her laughter as she nudged him lightly.

Y/n frowned, still groggy. "What time is it?” he groaned, trying to shake off the fog in his brain.

"Late," Winter replied, tossing him a water bottle. "Didn’t know you’d stay all day.”

"Neither did I," he muttered, taking a sip of water.

Something felt….off. The way they were all staring at him, the mischievous grins they were failing to hide—it didn’t sit right with him, but he was too tired to dig into it.

Just then, Karina appeared at the doorway, arms crossed as usual. "Go home," she said, her voice softer than usual. There was an unfamiliar warmth in her tone. "You’ve done enough for today. Sorry that you have to deal with these children even on your day off.”

Y/n blinked, a little thrown off by the sudden kindness, but he wasn’t about to question it. "Don’t have to tell me twice,” he mumbled, getting to his feet.

"Y/n, you look... different," Giselle said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. Ningning and Winter tried to stifle their laughter, looking away.

"What are you talking about?” Y/n asked, confused. He glanced down at his clothes—everything looked normal. Shrugging, he grabbed his jacket and started to head out the door.

"Nothing! See you tomorrow, Oppa!” Ningning called out, bursting into giggles.

"Yeah, see you...idiot” Winter added, her voice trembling from trying to hold back her laughter.

Y/n gave them a suspicious look but didn’t press further. He was too tired to deal with their antics tonight. He left the building, heading out into the cool night air, finally ready to go home and get some real rest.

As Y/n made his way through the convenience store to grab a drink before heading home, he noticed a few people staring at him strangely. A cashier gave him a weird look as he paid for his drink, and a couple of girls passing by couldn’t stop giggling when they saw him.

“What’s their problem?” he thought, feeling a little paranoid. Shrugging it off, he pulled out his phone to check the time. But as he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the dark screen, his eyes widened in horror.

There, scribbled all over his face in colourful marker, were ridiculous doodles: a poorly drawn moustache, cat whiskers, and the words “Manager Oppa” and “Best Idiot” written across his forehead.

Y/n stood frozen for a moment, processing the full extent of what had happened. Those friggin devils! No wonder they’d been giggling! He must have looked like a complete idiot walking around with his face like this.

With a sigh, Y/n rubbed his temples—thankfully, the markers weren't permanent. Grabbing a napkin from his bag, he tried wiping it off, but some of the ink had already settled too deep for a quick clean-up.

“I can’t believe I didn’t notice…of course Kim Minjeong was the mastermind of this crime…”

As he walked out of the store, trying to hide his face from any more passersby, his phone buzzed. A message from the group chat appeared on his screen.

Ningning:

You looked soooo cute with your new look today, oppa! 😂

Winter:

We’re so proud of you, “Best Idiot” 😸

Giselle:

Thanks for being such a good sport!

Y/n groaned, but couldn’t help the smile tugging at his lips. Sure, they’d tricked him, but it was harmless fun—typical aespa chaos. Tomorrow, though? He was going to make sure they paid for it.

With that thought, Y/n trudged home, already mentally planning his revenge…after he had his sleep.

The next day, after washing off the colourful madness on his face since he was too tired to do so last night, Y/n was just about to fully enjoy his day off on his bed when his phone buzzed again.

He sighed, part of him tempted to just throw it under the pillow and pretend the world didn’t exist for a few hours. But when he glanced at the screen, he saw three unread messages, all from the aespa group chat.

Giselle:

Y/n, I lost my keys again...

Ningning:

I tried washing my clothes but messed up the detergent ratios. Now there’s foam everywhere.

Winter:

Please get some snack. Thanks lol

Y/n rubbed his temples. “Day off?” He scoffed to himself. “Yeah, right.”

Despite his fatigue, he found himself grabbing his jacket again and heading back out. He figured he could at least get Giselle’s keys sorted, swing by Ningning’s place to fix the laundry disaster, and grab Winter’s snack in one go.

But first, he made a quick stop at a nearby convenience store.

By the time Y/n got to Ningning’s place, it looked like a small laundry soap apocalypse had occurred. She stood in the middle of the room, her hands covered in suds, giving him a sheepish grin.

"Help..." she pleaded, pointing to the washing machine, which was overflowing with bubbles. "I thought more detergent would make it cleaner, but now it’s like this.”

“Well, they clearly not, Ning.”

“I know! Help me out please!”

Y/n let out a deep sigh, but couldn’t help smiling at her cluelessness. "Alright, step back." He quickly adjusted the machine’s settings, drained some of the excess water, and cleaned up the foam. "Next time, use less detergent, okay?”

"Thanks, oppa!" Ningning beamed, but before Y/n could leave, she added, "Oh, and can you fix my bed too? It keeps creaking loudly for some reason."

After taking care of Ningning’s detergent disaster and bed crisis, Y/n swung by Giselle at the practice room to help her find her keys. They were wedged between the couch cushions—again.

"You really need a keychain or something, Aeri" Y/n sighed as he handed the keys to her.

"I know, I know... I keep losing them," Giselle admitted with a grin. "But hey, you’re always there to help, so thanks Y/n!”

Y/n chuckled. "Yeah, maybe I should start charging."

“Aren't you already charged from the company?”

“Yes, but I’ll get my overtime from you all.” Y/n joked.

With those dilemmas sorted, Y/n made his final stop: Winter’s room. She greeted him at the door with an eager smile, immediately grabbing the bags of snacks from his hands.

"Finally! I was starving." She didn’t waste any time ripping open the snacks.

Y/n rolled his eyes. "You could’ve just walked out and bought them yourself, you know.”

"But then what’s the point of having you around?" Winter teased with a grin. "Besides, you do the whole manager thing so well now. It’s almost like you're used to dealing with all our nonsense."

"Am I now?" Y/n muttered, though he couldn’t deny that things had become somewhat smoother lately. "But seriously, don’t call me on my day off unless it’s an emergency."

"Is snack hunger not an emergency? Is your best friend wanting to snack not one at all?” Winter retorted, eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n shook his head with a sigh. “You’re lucky you’re a small bean, Minjeong.”

“I know, I’m abusing it.” Winter snorted.

As he walked out of Winter’s dorm, he hesitated before making one final stop. Karina’s room was next on his mental checklist, though she hadn’t messaged him today. Their tension had been palpable for a while, and he figured it couldn’t hurt to try and lighten the mood.

Knocking lightly, he waited a moment before Karina opened the door. She looked surprised to see him, after he fully declared he will enjoy his day off.

"Uh, hey," Y/n began, rubbing the back of his neck. "I... uh... didn’t get any distress signals from you, but I brought you something anyway."

Karina raised an eyebrow, curious. Y/n handed her a small bag containing her favourite snack. "Just... you know, a peace offering or whatever," he added awkwardly, not quite sure how to approach the tension between them.

She stared at the bag for a moment, then back at him. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

"Thanks," she said quietly, taking the bag from him. The awkwardness between them hung in the air, but something in her expression softened.

"Karina," Y/n continued, fidgeting a little. "I know we’ve been... off lately, and I just wanted to... you know, make sure we’re cool. I mean, I’m still figuring this whole manager thing out, but I don’t want us to be at odds all the time."

Karina looked down at the snack in her hands, then back at Y/n. "It’s not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing," she said slowly. "You’ve improved a lot since the beginning... it’s just..."

She hesitated, as if searching for the right words.

"I guess it’s hard to adjust to someone new in the group. Especially someone who used to be a trainee, like us, with skills that does and does not correlate with the role" she finally admitted. "But I don’t hate you or anything. It’s just... a weird transition."

Y/n nodded, understanding. "Ahhh, I get you.”

Karina took a deep breath, then gave him a rare, genuine smile. "Thanks for the snack, though. It helps."

Y/n chuckled softly, feeling a bit of the weight between them lift. "No problem…Jimin. Just... don’t let the others know I’m handing out free snacks. They’ll start demanding a whole shop."

Karina laughed lightly, the sound easing the remaining tension between them. "Deal."

As Y/n turned to leave, he felt a little more hopeful about where things stood between him and Karina. Small steps, but steps nonetheless.

Heading home after the day’s unexpected chaos, Y/n finally felt like he might actually get that day off... tomorrow, maybe. But for now, he’d settle for some well-deserved rest. He pulled out his phone one last time and texted the group chat:

Y/n:

Next time, I’m charging you all for manager duties on my day off.

$50 USD per hour. Take it or leave it, suckers.

Unknowingly, Winter replied.

Bet.

#aespa #aespa giselle #aespa karina #aespa ningning #aespa winter #aespa x reader #karina #giselle #ningning #kpop #kim minjeong #ning yizhuo #yoo jimin #aeri uchinaga

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ceebit · 2 years

Text

birthday aches ✦ j. hong

note : happy birthday ?? to my bestie ?? crying crying crying ok. hope he stuffed himself full with cake and rests well :’) idk what else to say that isn’t me just crying so here’s a birthday post for my beloved. <3

wc : 1.7k. fluff. emotional ? tears definitely. ok. [cries]

“do i have something on my face?”

he blinks slowly, dazed look sharpening to something much more focused, and allows himself to be subject to the laughter that crackles through the speakers of his phone. you’re squinting at him teasingly like you always do, brows drawn downwards in disbelief.

“am i no longer allowed to admire artwork anymore?” his voice drawls out lazily, stretching out before snuggling further into his blanket. you roll your eyes like he knew you would, but he knows there’s a smile hidden underneath the bundle of your scarf.

it’s hard, sometimes—being away from you for so long, especially during the holidays. with concerts and fan signs and so many little things to complete before the year is over, he hardly has time to catch up with you and the life that you live. (that doesn’t include him, he oftens thinks bitterly, and resigns himself to feeling low until one of the guys eventually drag him out and about.)

he loves his dream. loves being on stage, loves being surrounded by people who love him and his members for the career he chose but he wishes you were here with him every step of the way. he supposes it’s karma, you falling in love with the people’s person. a humbling experience to remind him what he’s chosen to do.

support is never wavering with you, though. no matter what city you’re in or the difference in time zones, you’ve never missed a single good luck message before a performance or a call to soothe his fear and anxieties of underperforming. you’ve become his forever constant, from that fateful mix up in his schedule to years up the ladder of success, and he’s grateful for you in ways he can’t even begin to describe.

he just, you know. wishes you could have been by his side for all of it.

he zones back in to gentle calls of his name, offering a tired smile to the questioning look you send him. “the concert was a bit exhausting,” he explains. “i don’t think my body has quite yet… come down from the high, if that makes sense?”

you hum in both understanding and sympathy, and he knows that if you were here, he’d be squeezed into your arms and rocked side to side for a bit.

“i’m just glad you have some time to relax for your birthday,” you grin, your sincerity seeping through the screen. “you deserve the rest, shua. i hate seeing you so tired all the time.”

i haven’t slept well since the last time i touched you, he wants to say. i sleep better knowing i’ll turn you’ll still be there. i haven’t felt the texture of your skin in months and it’s driving me up the wall but he smiles and nods and promises to try for you.

“is it cold where you are? i hope you’re staying warm.”

you read between the lines as always, glancing back at the screen to offer a smile. “is this the part where i say ‘i only feel warm with you’?”

“whatever makes you happiest, dear.” and you laugh and it soothes the ache just a little bit.

he wants to talk about your travels. the sights you’ve seen, the people you’ve met, and the things you’ve done. but all thoughts of uttering a single word considering your worldwide trek comes to a halt when you look up yet again, and he can’t help but blurt, “are you busy? you know it doesn’t matter if you call today. i know it’s a lot of—”

“don’t be silly, you know i’ll always make time for you.” your frown is almost offended, and he burrows himself deeper into the covers under your stare. “busy or not, you’re important to me!”

he nods. understood. his heart kicks its feet giddily.

“i’m just. hoping i don’t be late to this thing i’m rushing to. it’s kind of time sensitive?” you huff in annoyance, cold air fogging around your face. “it’s really important to me.”

“and you want me to stay on the phone with you?” you nod and his chest warms significantly. “just say you’re in love with me or something.”

“i’m in love with you,” you reply simply, shaking your head soon after when he calls you a sap.

you chat aimlessly for a bit longer, filling the distance with your mindless thoughts on topics he threw at you and in turn, asking him about his hopes for the new year. it’s the same each and every year—to spend more time with you—and he knows you just like to hear him say it, but it rings a bit of a sad truth.

he wants to settle down with you. wants to do mundane things like bicker over losing socks in the laundry and grocery shop with you in the afternoon and spoon feed you soup when you don’t feel your best. he wants it with enough passion to self combust, after years of getting by with glimpses of you. he can’t stand the distance, but beggars can’t be choosers.

it sours his mood, and like always, you notice.

“shua.” his hum is faint, lingering in the air. “can you go to your front door? i think my present should have arrived by now?”

“you got me a gift?” his gaze darts to the door, squinting as if he could see through it if he tried hard enough. you stifle a laugh. “what is it?”

“open your door and find out, genius.”

slowly, he patters out of the living room and towards the main hallway, phone in hand at your request to see his reaction. he sees you bite your lip in anticipation and his heart thunders.

“will i like it?” he’s nervous but he doesn’t know why. “what am i talking about? of course i’ll like it, it’s from you.”

“sweet talker,” you tease, “but you’re stalling. i don’t want porch pirates to steal it!”

“i live in an apartment?”

“don’t be a smartass.” you’ve lost the bite to your words, though. you’re grinning openingly, excitement highlighting your features, and he wonders just what you might have waiting for him behind the door.

it could have been anything, really. he was expecting an actual present from the way you urged him on. not… one of his friends dressed head to toe in red.

“took you long enough,” jeonghan gripes, and rolls his eyes in faux annoyance when you laugh. “hello to you, too.”

“hi, hannie,” you greet sweetly, offering a smile when joshua looks down at his screen in confusion. “your present isn’t our dear friend’s presence, though.”

“how unfortunate for you,” the latter sniffs. “i’m a fucking delight to have around. your loss.”

“hannie’s gonna blindfold and lead you somewhere, okay? it’s all safe, promise.”

“can’t guarantee he won’t be a bit bruised,” jeonghan pipes up as he produces a white blindfold, grinning cheekily as joshua glances at him wearily. “i’m joking. yn, tell him i’m joking.”

“if i come back and i see a hair on his head misplaced, you won’t like it.”

“yeah, whatever.”

jeonghan leads him down what seems to be a hallway, the lights on the ceiling faintly visible through the fabric, and then he hears the telltale sound of the elevator reaching his floor. he’s quickly ushered inside, gripping his hand for dear life when it begins to descend.

“you still there?” you ask gently, phone still gripped in his other. he nods, frowning slightly when jeonghan stifles a snort. “words, sweetheart. you okay?”

“a little tense, but i’m okay.”

“he’s breaking my hand.”

“ignore him,” you try to soothe him, and he cracks a smile when the other lets out a faint hmph. “it’ll be over quickly. in fact, if i’m timing this correctly—”

the elevator stalls, another faint ding signaling their arrival.

“—you should be here soon, too.”

here? weren’t you out of the country? he wants to ask what you could possibly mean by that when you’re definitely thousands of miles away from him—but he hears the doors slide open and the sound of you hanging up the phone abruptly. he startles when he’s tugged out the elevator and stumbles over his feet, steadied only when he’s stopped suddenly.

hands clap against his shoulders. “wait right here,” he hears his friend say. and without waiting for some semblance of a response, his footsteps fade away.

well. if he died, he knew very well who he’d be haunting.

phone tucked into the pockets of his pajamas, his hands wring nervously, itching to grant himself the gift of sight once more. and why did you suddenly hang up? he hopes you’re okay. anything could happen these days, and he’d be damned if anything happened to you—

a pair of arms circle around his waist. he tenses, skin chilled from the slight press of cold fabric against his white shirt, and holds his breath. silence tears him apart for what seems like hours. then,

“you can take off the blindfold.”

his heart drops sixty feet into the ground, and then soars right back up into the sky.

laughter swarms his ears as he hastily undoes the knot tied sloppily at the back of his head, light swarming back unforgivingly, but he doesn’t care. not when he’s sure he’s just just heard your voice.

he blinks rapidly, silently begging for his vision to clear.

“don’t cry,” you laugh, hands moving to cup his face, and now he’s definitely crying, crushing you to his body and burying his face into your neck. how couldn’t he? when it’s been months since he’s last seen you, since he’s last gotten to hold you?

he needs to take the time to memorize the shape of you again. needs to run his hands over the curves and dips, overwhelmed by your sudden presence with the need to touch like a man starved.

“i thought you…” he tries to say, but all the words he’s ever practiced to say to your face fall apart the second the tips of your thumbs brush away stray tears.

“early flight. someone pulled enough strings.”

jeonghan halfheartedly salutes somewhere behind your head, and any and all thoughts of haunting him quickly dissipates. he’ll get him a cheese platter or something. just as soon as he gets used to having you this close once again.

“happy birthday,” you whisper into his embrace. his response is something akin to a sob, embarrassingly so, but you only squeeze him tighter in response.

“missed you.” please don’t leave again. “missed you so much.”

“i’m not going anywhere.” i’m here.

back home ⟡ the archive ⟡ join my taglist ⟡ last post

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tact-and-impulse · 20 days

Text

Narumayo Week 2024 Day 5

I just had to pull together the idea at the end of the day, but I made it!

Prompt: Travel

“You finally made it? That took forever.” Pearl gasped on the other end of the line. “Can you see the big clock tower? Or London Bridge?”

Maya wryly looked past the glass, at the rainy weather obscuring the city lights. “Not right now, it’s already nighttime here. And guess what? I’m calling from tomorrow, it’s the next day.”

“Oh, my gosh…” Her little cousin was awed.

She spied a familiar blue blazer staggering out of the men’s restroom. “There he is. Nick is totally wiped out, even though he slept for half the flight.”

“I heard that, Maya. Hi, Pearl.” He yawned. “And it took almost fifteen hours. The Legal League of Attorneys is paying, so I probably shouldn’t complain that much.”

Maya was already enjoying the trip. She’d never traveled by plane before, and she had the window seat. The green fields, craggy mountains, and tiny bustling cars were fascinating, but she was absolutely enthralled by the glow of sunset among the clouds. She had taken pictures with her digital camera, although none seemed to capture the beauty of that golden hour.

A crack of thunder caused them to startle. Maya hurriedly said. “It’s also raining here, and we should get to the hotel. Talk to you later.”

“Bye, Mystic Maya.” The phone clicked, and they rushed to baggage claim. They headed for the exit, stopping short at the sheet of water rippling over the glass windows. A flash of lightning illuminated their resigned expressions.

“Uh, Nick, did you-?”

“No…ugh. And London’s known for it too.”

They’d forgotten to pack umbrellas.

And the airport had to jack up the prices. While Maya sifted through the sightseeing magazines and tried not to stare at an incredibly expensive toy tea party set, Phoenix paid for their shield from the rain. As he returned, she noticed it was a single clear umbrella. Just one.

Her pulse picked up, and she hoped she sounded nonchalant. “We’re operating on a budget, huh?”

“It’s only for tonight. Do you mind if we stick close together?”

“After sitting next to you for hours and hours?” No, she didn’t mind at all. In fact, that was crucial to her enjoyment. “I think I’ll survive.”

“I’ll try to keep you in one piece. Who else is going to ride a trolley and eat fish and chips with me?”

“And sticky toffee pudding. We have to get the full experience while we’re tourists.”

“Legal exchange representatives.”

“Only in the courtroom. Outside of it, that’s a different story.” She purposefully raised her eyebrows. He gave a low laugh, and she was too pleased.

“A fair argument. That’s why I asked you to come along.” Despite his weary demeanor and the dark circles under his eyes, he still offered his arm. That was him to the core, continuing to the very end. “Let’s go.”

She acquiesced, tightly hanging on to his solid presence. “Okay. First one to find a cab wins.”

And with that, they went stamping into the stormy darkness.

#narumayo #narumayoweek2024 #ace attorney #it's when they land in london for the layton crossover game

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even-disco-baby · 2 years

Text

SOLA — Her Innocence, Sola— the anti-innocence— turns to face you. In the distance, you hear the tattoo of propellers, turning, sucking all the air. A strong wind whips her long, dark hair around her face. Her simple black gown billows behind her. The same gown she wore the day she resigned.

She has your eyes.

“Hi, Kim,” she says simply. “You don’t look well.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Her voice is so familiar, and yet the moment she stops speaking, you cannot recall its sound, no matter how hard you try. And you have tried. Innumerable times.

AUTHORITY — What makes her think she would even *know* the difference between you looking well or unwell? She’s being presumptuous. She doesn’t even know you.

INLAND EMPIRE — She never will.

“I’m doing great, actually. Never been better.”

“Hey, I’m trying my best.”

“I’m *not* well. I’m so fucking unwell. I can’t take it anymore. Please, help me…”

“I’ll live.”

SOLA — “Hm…” She smiles apologetically. “Well, that’s all we can really ask for anymore, isn’t it?”

EMPATHY — She wishes more than anything that this was not the case. That you could ask for the world and have it.

RHETORIC — She tried to give it to you, and this is how you repay her? You’re gonna be in *deep* shit trying to explain that insignia you stitched onto her jacket.

“Um, about the jacket. It’s not what it… well, no, it *is* what it looks like. But I don’t— it’s— there’s nuance.”

“Is that really all you have to say to me?”

“I don’t know what to say to you.”

“Where are you going?”

SOLA — Her Innocence looks away from you, toward the wind. “Away,” she says, her voice distant and strange. “Yes… I’m stepping down, you see. The world doesn’t need me. It never needed me, really. It’s best for humanity to think for itself. No… it already *does* think for itself.”

She turns back to you with a small smile. The thought brings her peace.

PAIN THRESHOLD — But what does it bring *you?* She’s leaving you forever. Abandoning you for lofty ideals.

AUTHORITY — Let her go. Let her see how little you care. Don’t give her any satisfaction.

HALF LIGHT — Stop her. You won’t be able to live without her.

VOLITION — You have already lived almost all your life without her. You don’t need her. You have *never* needed her.

“What if the world *does* need you? Who are you to make that decision for the entire world?”

“Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”

“So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”

“Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”

SOLA — “What else is an Innocence appointed to do?” Her smile turns wry. “You see? This is why I’m stepping down.”

Distant propellers turn and turn in endless circles. She glances toward them.

YOU — “Fine. Go. It’s none of my business.”

SOLA — “I suppose not.” Her voice and her face betray nothing. No sign of remorse.

YOU — “So you’re just going to leave me behind again.”

SOLA — “That was never my intention,” she says softly. “Surely you know that.”

INLAND EMPIRE — You will never truly know. No one will.

SOLA — She stares out at the horizon through the tendrils of hair that almost seem to threaten to swallow her. Her expression is strange and ambiguous, shifting every time you try and look directly at it.

YOU — “Please, don’t go. *I* need you.”

SOLA — She looks at you, and her eyes are full of what might be genuine sadness. But they could also be full of anything else.

“Oh, Kim… You must make do with what you have. I don’t know what else you want me to say…”

RHETORIC — What?! There are a million other things she could say! Forty-one years worth of possibilities! She could say *anything!* Anything at all… Even if she’d only left you a single word, it would be better than this…

VOLITION — It’s pointless to wish. Please, no more of this. It’s too sad.

“You could say that you’re sorry.”

“Say that I turned out all right.”

“Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”

SOLA — “Then I’m sorry.” She closes her eyes. “It was terrible of us to leave you alone.”

Her voice is utterly calm and emotionless.

PAIN THRESHOLD — No… Wrong, all wrong…

YOU — “Say that I turned out all right.”

SOLA — “You’re a good man despite it all. That is all I ever hoped for you.”

Again, there is no warmth to her words. No conviction.

VOLITION — Lieutenant… Please, don’t do this to yourself.

YOU — “Say that you’re proud of me. That you love me.”

SOLA — “I’m so proud of you and everything you’ve accomplished. You wear that jacket well.”

Her eyes have nothing behind them. A pair of two millimeter holes in the world.

“I love you.”

PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs seem to constrict at her words. Your chest hurts more than it’s ever hurt. This wind is hard to breathe in.

YOU — “No! Don’t you fucking get it?! You don’t love me!”

SOLA — “Then I don’t love you.”

YOU — “You should be *ashamed* of me!”

SOLA — “Then I am ashamed.”

YOU — “I betrayed you! I betrayed everything you stood for! I’m a fucking cop!”

SOLA — “Then I am betrayed.”

She proclaims it as dispassionately as she proclaimed her love.

YOU — “For god’s sake, *say something real!*”

SOLA — She just looks at you. The propellers keep on turning.

DRAMA — She can’t speak for herself, sire…

LOGIC — Of course she can’t. Of course…

PAIN THRESHOLD — Your lungs feel like they could collapse. Empty, crumpled, dark. Hot tears prick your eyes for the first time in what feels like a long time.

SOLA — “Do you understand now?” she asks gently.

LOGIC — She cannot speak for herself because you do not know what she would say.

There are many memories that you have been slowly recovering, little by little. Your mother will never be one of them. Her, the revolution, the aerostatic brigade— they all died before you could even comprehend loss.

AUTHORITY — You did not become a detective so that you could find your lost mother. You became a police officer because you did not want to end up like her.

VOLITION — She can neither forgive you, nor condemn you. She is dead, Lieutenant. She can only be what you make her.

RHETORIC — You’re asking your own echo for answers…

SOLA — “Humanity must think for itself,” she says again, turning again toward the wind. “What point is there in asking me where to go from here? I’m a failure. We all failed…”

RHETORIC — The revolutionaries failed their children, and the children are failing their parents, and all of them are dying, dying, dead… What’s the point in any of this anymore? I cannot argue in favor of any of it.

VOLITION — There is a point. There is a way forward. But you won’t find it here, Lieutenant.

“I hate you. You made me everything I am and then you just *left.*”

“I miss you… How is it even possible to miss someone you never met? It’s like someone ripped a part of me out and all I can do is bleed.”

“I don’t know what I am. I need you to tell me what I am.”

SOLA — One last time, she turns back to you. She slowly bridges the gap between you and reaches out a hand to cup your cheek. Her fingers feel like your own.

“You are whatever kind of animal you choose to be,” she says, so quietly that you don’t know how you can hear it over the distant roar of engines. “I cannot make that choice for you.”

EMPATHY — She died hoping that you would grow up with the freedom to choose to be whatever you wanted. Instead, the world that raised you hardly let you dare to want anything.

VOLITION — But you can still make a choice. Humanity can still think for itself.

#disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #swap au #should i tag sola? i kinda doubt i’ll ever need to use that tag again LMAO #anyway um. yeah.#tbh as fun as the swap au stuff is i wasn’t all that interested in it until my brain was like. SWAP DREAM SEQUENCE #and now suddenly i have like. lore for swap kim.#his breakdown isn’t bc of a breakup it’s over a crisis of identity #at first when he wakes up and starts inspecting stuff like his jacket and his notes #he starts finding out things abt his mother (a revolutionary aerostatic pilot who died and passed down the jacket to him)#and at first he’s like ohh i see im investigating her disappearance!#but he’s not. she’s dead. she died when the moralintern crushed the commune #kim grew up resenting both his parents for dying in a failed revolution #leaving him to grow up alone as a gay disabled seolite orphan #he became a cop and drank the moralist koolaid bc he didn’t want to be like his parents #and also bc he wanted to not be so powerless (and to be able to take shit out on other ppl just like canon kim)#but also just like in canon his experience in the rcm was just more of the same shit #he felt constantly humiliated and like a hypocrite and just compartmentalized hardcore #then he came to martinaise and saw the scars of the failed revolution and finally just snapped and broke down #he doesn’t even know what kind of animal he is other than he doesn’t want to be it anymore #so he pulls harry’s epic mind wipe binge and etc etc #anyway. coughs

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idle-daydreams · 7 months

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Can I please ask for a yandere Demon King chuuya with Kianna

Like in this scenario he kidnaps her

But instead of being afraid of running off she's just like

Kianna: You give me no reason to run away so why Try?

Tw: Yandere, kidnapping.

Chuuya wasn’t sure what to make of the situation. He’d prepared himself for every scenario he could think of when he’d kidnapped you: he’d been ready for you to fight back, to cry and scream and call him every vile name in the book. He’d expected terror, confusion and despair - but not the absolute calm you were displaying right now.

“Kianna,” he said, standing before you with his arms crossed. “You’re pretty chill right now. Do you know who I am?”

“I know,” you said quietly. “You’re the Shutendoji.”

“That’s right,” he said, pleased. “I’m glad you recognise me. Or have you been watching me as well?”

“I’ve... seen you.” Your gaze flickered over his body, and Chuuya was delighted to see a faint blush brush your cheeks.He knelt before you, tucking a stray strand of your hair behind your ear. You squirmed just a little, pressing yourself back against the wall, but didn’t react much apart from that.

“Aren’t you afraid of me?” Chuuya asked. “Or is there something else going on in your mind?”

“There’s no point in being afraid,” you replied. “You haven’t done anything to me.”

“Yes, but you must have heard of my reputation,” he said, tracing a black claw down your cheek. “Aren’t you afraid I’m going to eat you?”

“I’ve been here about a week now,” you said flatly. “If you wanted to kill me, you would have by now.”

Your eyes glimmered with defiance and resignation. Despite himself, Chuuya was impressed. “So you’ve noticed,” he said. “You’ve noticed just how nice I’ve been. I’ve kept you safe and warm and comfortable, haven’t I? Do you know why I did all that?”

“...no.”

“It’s because I love you.”

This time, your eyes did widen. “What?” you exclaimed. “What do you mean, you love me?”

“I love you.” Chuuya leaned in excitedly, grasping your face tenderly with both hands. “I love you so much, Kianna, I just couldn’t stay away from you. You want to stay with me, don’t you?”

You opened your mouth, then paused, hesitant. Fear gripped Chuuya’s heart, and he wondered if that revelation was what was finally going to drive you away. He was a monster, after all, and there was little chance that a human - especially one as perfect as you - could ever love him.

“Fine,” you said. “Thank you.”

He stared. “Thank you?”

“I don’t love you, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“You don’t hate me?”

You shrugged, then shook your head. “You’re kind, kinder than anyone has ever been to be. I don’t... like that you’re the Shutendoji, but right now I’ve no complaints.”

“You never will,” he said eagerly. “I promise you, you won’t regret being with me. I’ll keep you by my side, and we’ll be together, forever.”

#yandere bsd #yandere chuuya #asks #bsd x reader #yandere imagines #yandere

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emwritesstuff · 10 months

Text

as the world caves in | ch. 10 | bucky barnes x reader

synopsis: You are a ghost story. A former Air Force pilot who had her plane shot down by Germany in 1945, but here you were in 2023, alive and frozen in your 25-year-old body.

You haven’t seen Bucky since the 1940’s, before his fall, before you went on a suicide mission only to come back alive. You aren’t sure reliving those memories – and being a living memory of everything the man has lost – is the best for him.

But you and Bucky won’t be apart for long.

This will loosely follow the plot of TFATWS - so spoilers ahead, specially regarding episode six (finale). Thread carefully!

masterlist | AO3

notes: wheewoo. it's been a while, and I hope you guys - whoever still reads this - enjoy this. I'm so so sorry for taking so long. We're nearing the end. iykyk. (warnings: fluff, angst, mentions of the apocalypse and atomic bombs, mentions of death, wwii) (word count: 4.5K)

ten: coffee

The aroma of coffee filled your nostrils as you stirred awake. You stretched your limbs on your bed as the soft sunrays of the early morning entered through the window.

Your feet made little noise as you padded towards the smell, though you knew Bucky’s super-soldier ears would pick it up anyway.

“Mornin’.” The husk of his voice, of his first word of the day, made your heart skip a beat. It was like a record you could keep forever on repeat.

You were almost glad he kept his back turned so he didn’t see you bite your lip and subsequently roll your eyes at your own reaction.

“Good morning.” You say it back once you get to the kitchen, smiling at him as you watched him move around. “Coffee?”

“Yeah. Here.” He slid a mug to you and took one for himself, seemingly satisfied with his job as you see him give a little nod after a sip.

You whispered your thanks and brought the drink to your lips, feeling the warmth of it through the ceramic. The reaction was immediate – as soon as you tasted it, your nose crinkled.

It’s sweet, the gesture itself surely was sweet. It’s too damn sweet.

Bucky had put sugar into the coffee pot.

“I cannot believe you.”

Your guilty, deer-in-headlights eyes looked up at him, who’s staring at you with a bewildered frown.

“It’s fine—”

“No!”

“I barely— I’ll still drink it!” You took another sip, licking your lips in sequence.

So. Much. Sugar.

“You can’t even pretend you don’t hate it.” He said, shaking his head. “And you call yourself a spy? With that face?”

“I was one,” You clicked your tongue. “All this time and you didn’t learn how to make coffee properly.”

“This is— it’s practical.” He rolled his eyes, sipping his sugary coffee. You followed. “Stop it.”

“I’m drinking it! You made it for me.” It wasn’t how your old-habits-self preferred it, but you have had it worse. Although somehow, that was making Bucky more annoyed instead of appeasing him.

He glared at you indignantly when you tell him you’re doing it to show your appreciation, then setting the mug down when he huffed. “What now?”

“Nothing.” Bucky stared at your ceiling and you at his profile. You tilted your head when he sighed. “…stupid thing to be arguing about.”

“We argue about stupid things all the time.” You took the coffee in your hands, but didn’t drink. “Argue-d?”

“Still do. Like when I tied your arm sling too tight.”

You grumbled that it was indeed too god-damned tight, and Bucky chuckled.

In truth, you had missed this. Even the bickering, yes, how the two of you were too stubborn to give in their very specific ways of doing everyday things. It made you feel alive, like you too had been frozen on ice with your two best friends.

One sip from you and Bucky was licking his teeth. He was faking the outrage, you could tell as you grinned at him.

“If Steve was here—” You started, making him turn to you with a resigned smile.

“He’d just fix everything. Mediate, the Stevie thing he used to do. He hated us arguing.”

Disturbed his peace.

“I suppose now someone’s gotta...?”

The phone chimed before you could finish your sentence. It was Sam.

You coming, Top Gun?

You chewed at your nail as you read the words, transmitting them on to Bucky next to you. He nodded, cursing under his breath that he’d agreed to this cookout in the first place.

Bring Robocop with you.

You assured Sam – and Bucky too – he’d be there.

“I’ll complain the whole time.”

“That’s okay. He knows how you are already,” You joked, leaving the kitchen with your coffee in hand. He wouldn’t complain, at least not the entire time. You could see him having a fairly good time with Sam’s family and friends, even if he’d insist he wasn’t a people person anymore.

Before you disappeared into your room to pack, you turned to look at Bucky again. He was watching you from the kitchen counter, a small smile dancing on the corner of his lips.

Then it hit the realization that he’d stayed over. Actually stayed, and still made no signs of wanting to leave. You wondered if he had noticed that and didn’t care or if it was an inertia driven thing. One thing you knew: Bucky looked right where he belonged between your yellow kitchen tiles and mid-century cabinets. With his overly sweet coffee and darkened eyebags and sagging, tired, relaxed shoulders.

“What are you wearing?”

“A sundress. And a hat.” You smoothed the fabric, checking yourself one last time before you two left the hangar.

“I know it’s a dress, but—”

“Then why are you asking?” This made Bucky huff, his metal fingers tightening over the cake packaging.

Who brings birthday cake to a cookout? He grumbled about how it’s so much skin. You ignored it, because he didn’t have the right to complain about your attire, considering his own. “Listen, you might like getting a heatstroke with all that leather, but it’s warm today so I’m going to wear my dress.”

“Yeah, yeah, diss the jacket. But don’t come runnin’ after me when you get cold later.”

“Deal.”

It was a short walk to the docks and the small crowd that were Sam’s friends and family. The welcome that was given by the new Captain America’s closest warmed your heart – soon enough, you and him were mingling, eating, giggling on a corner with Sarah about how all the kids and some adults were completely smitten with Bucky. She teased about how you were, too.

Even the cake was somewhat of a success. Bucky made sure to throw that on your face.

The day breezed by, and you only noticed the passing of time when fireflies started twinkling as the sun disappeared behind the river.

“This doesn’t look like your jacket.” Sam hummed, joining you at a picnic table, a smirk on his face. You threw a lemon slice at him.

Bucky’s jacket felt heavy over your body. The warmth you got from it probably showed on your cheeks, but you had no intention of facing the chill of the night with bare shoulders now that it was offered to you.

“Shut it.”

“Just sayin’, just sayin’.” He laughed. You shook your head, casually sipping your cranberry limeade. “And all you had to do was look mildly cold. He left me talking to myself to put that over you.”

You smiled. There was no denying how that made you feel; especially to Sam Wilson who was now giving you an eyebrow wiggle.

Your smile dropped a little.

“Sam…I can’t.” You sighed. “Not now. Things are finally good as they are, and—”

“Are they?”

Sam was looking at you, in that Sam way that looked right into your soul. You felt small, like you were maybe, ten, and not a-hundred-and-six years old.

“Yes. I just got him back. I already made the wrong call once, and I won’t do it again. Heartache be damned. I lived 70 years of it, hopeless and this… this is more than what I could ask for. Things are good.” You let out a breathless sigh. “Golly, say something before I start rattling on again.”

“Wow, that makes you sound so...” Sam started laughing when you kicked his shin, and amidst your own laughter you confirmed that yes, you were in fact old. “I was gonna say vintage!”

“And speaking of vintage,” He continued, and that’s when you finally realized the song that was playing.

Time after time

I tell myself that I'm so lucky to be loving you

People around you were saying oohs and aahs, couples new and old gathering to dance below the string lights while you glared at Sam. “You planned this?”

“Hey, don’t look at me. Look behind you.”

A hand was extended in your direction when you turned.

So lucky to be

Bucky was grinning down at you while you stared at him, dumbfounded. “C’mon, sugar. Don’t leave me hangin’, yeah?”

You took his hand quickly, shrugged his jacket off your shoulders and then you two stepped into to the spontaneous dance floor that had formed.

The one you run to see

“I haven’t done this in a long time.” He said and you looked at him, so beautiful under the dim lights. “Sorry if I step on your feet.”

All you could do was gaze at him, still a bit in awe as he swayed you to Margaret Whiting’s voice. He raised an eyebrow at you. “What?”

“Nothin’. You’re going back to your old ways, then?” You grinned, averting his eyes. “Know who you’re dancing with next?”

He tightened his grip on your waist and you pretended it didn’t make your chest tight.

“No one. I just figured we should… for old times,”

“Right.” You bit your lip. He was staring, and that feeling of being a teenager in love hit again.

“And it’s a good change from all that R&B.”

You laughed.

You've kept my love so young, so new

He made the pair of you spin around, and your eyes met Sarah’s from across the room. She was standing next to the speaker, giving you a thumbs up.

The little shit.

You turn your head, your cheeks reddening as you attempt to hide away in Bucky’s shoulder.

The Wilsons and their meddling. A family of wingmen.

Your new position didn’t help things, because the smell of Bucky’s cologne and the way he pulled you flush against him had your heart beating wildly inside your ribcage.

His was too. You could feel it, almost hear it this close.

You told yourself it was from the audience you only now were noticing. The other pairs were gone, leaving just the two of you dancing. You looked up at him, finally.

“Buck.”

He hummed, meeting your gaze. His eyes had a sparkle to them. Something different in the blue. Something secret.

And time after time

You'll hear me say that I'm

Your lips parted, words at the tip of your tongue.

So lucky to be loving you

“You guys want another song?” Sam’s voice cut through the crowd, and pulled you from whatever daze you had been caught in.

Bucky grumbled and you stepped back, the wind chilly on your back now that you were out of his embrace.

You felt cemented to the floor, caught and exposed. The arms you had been safely tucked in gone from around you. Only turned when Bucky stomped past you, nearly knocking shoulders with Sam in the process.

Some wingman he was.

People returned to the dance floor as soon as a dancey 80’s ballad blasted through the speaker. Your dance partner from a minute ago nowhere to be seen. “I’m here to rescue you,” Sarah took your hand, leading you away from the eye of the hurricane.

They managed to squeeze three songs in before the rain started. Bucky’s sudden sour mood seemed to have summoned the clouds, now pouring themselves noisily over the tent you had sheltered under.

“I guess I ruined the mood, huh?”

“Goodness grief, Sam.” You chided, wrapping your arms around yourself. The chill now biting harder with the rain. “There was no mood. Everyone was watching. He’s—”

Embarrassed. “Self-conscious. You know.”

Sam nodded, and you went back to scanning your surroundings for any signs of Bucky.

“There was a little mood though.”

“Shut up.”

“Sorry, sorry!”

You were ready to berate him some more when you were enveloped in something warm, your eyes seeing leather and metal before you could turn and see Bucky, right at your back.

Soaked. To the bone, water dripping from him as he helped tighten the jacket around your shoulders. “James—!”

“’M sorry about earlier. I—” He then looked behind you, seemingly noticing the other people also huddled under the tent.

Sam was looking everywhere but at the two of you. He murmured something like Not here. Not even here.

“You wanna go?” You offered quietly, and Bucky’s eyes softened in gratitude.

“You guys can’t fly in this weather!” Sam poked his head at your side, and as if to hammer his point down thunder rumbled above all of you.

Suddenly even you felt too crammed and claustrophobic in the middle of everyone else. You were sure Bucky did too, his fingers tightening on your shoulders as the rain picked up.

“It’s fine. I’m used to—”

“He’s right. We can go back tomorrow.” Bucky rolled his eyes when Sam looked at him in shock, and you chuckled.

“Wait wait wait. Can you repeat that? On record—”

“No.”

“Sam…”

“Fine.” He tutted, and you sighed. ”You guys want to stay at the house?”

“No.” Bucky repeated, and you surprised yourself with the relief that hit you. “We’ll get a hotel or somethin’.”

“Carlos can drive y’all to the Monte Carlo? He’s going too.”

You couldn’t be more thankful for Sarah right now.

You used Bucky’s jacket to cover your head as the two of you ran from Carlos’ truck to the Monte Carlo Motel. A quick wave at him and you were inside, making your clumsy ways to the reception.

The girl behind the desk looked warily at Bucky and his soaked self, although it could also be because of the exposed metal arm.

“Hi, uh—one double room?”

You and Bucky blurted out a panicked no at the same time, locking eyes as the receptionist scrambled for another key. Then you also handed her a credit card at the same time.

“I got it.”

“Buck, it’s fine, I can—”

He scowled. “No. Said I got it.” He placed his metal hand on top of yours with your card and slid his own across the desk. You stared at him, schooling your facial expression to not show the surprise on your face. Nothing you could do about the color on your cheeks, though.

He sensed your eyes on him and looked at you, making you bite your lip. It’s like you’d forgotten how dominating he could be, and how it made you feel some type of way.

You blinked it away. “You gonna ask for a vet discount? Senior?”

Bucky clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Are you?”

“No one would believe me.”

“But would believe me?”

“You have that old man grouchiness to ya.” You said, shrugging. He shot you one of his glares.

“Iraq?” The receptionist pulled you two away from the bickering, giving Bucky’s card back and two room keys.

“Normandy,” Answered simultaneously, earning a chuckle out of you. She shot you a disbelieving smile.

“Told you she wouldn’t believe me.” You quipped as you went up the stairs.

“Oh, come on.”

You laughed, elbowing him playfully once you reached him at the top of the stairs. “She would’ve if she knew your music taste.”

“My music taste?” You squinted.

“I wasn’t listening to Vera Lynn on a random Thursday night.”

“That’s ‘cus you can’t operate a Bluetooth speaker.”

He rolled his eyes, huffing in annoyance. It came easy to you, the provocations, a much palatable feeling than the awkwardness from before. Bucky then turned to assess which way your rooms were in, leaving you to follow him as he trudged through the corridor.

He stopped in front of the 304, handing you one of the keys. “Mine is at the other side of the building I’m guessing.” The numbers 323 shown on his own keychain proved that to you.

It was both comforting and disappointing that you wouldn’t be sharing a wall.

“Alright,” You said, opening the door.

“Y/N, I—Sorry about earlier. About leaving like that.” He let out a heavy breath when you turned to look at him, hand on the doorknob.

“It’s okay. I’ve never been the greatest dancer.” You shot him a crooked grin, and he shook his head, expression still solemn.

“It wasn’t you— I panicked. The starin’…” He cast his eyes down, at his feet, and you gave his bicep a squeeze.

“I know. Nerve wracking,” You said softly, still a bit restless from earlier. “I loved dancing with you though.”

Bucky raised his gaze, meeting your own. Lips parted. Eyes darting down to lips. Nodded once. “Me too, sugar.”

You smiled. The words almost falling from the tip of your tongue again.

“I—”

“I should— get to my room,”

“Yeah. Okay.”

“G’night, then.”

You hummed. “Night, Buck.”

You had to fight the urge to slide down the door once you closed it, after watching his frame disappear around the corner.

The confession had almost come out of you, almost ruining everything. It was enough how you felt, how your pulse raced. How your fingers burned, wanting to touch. Those words were the one thing you managed to keep together.

90 years and counting.

You hoped, prayed – at whichever entity that lived above the ceiling – for sleep to take you before you could lose control of everything.

It was supposed to be a secret mission, with slim possibility of return. You and two other WASP pilots were to fly over Belgium and drop supplies to the men resisting at the Ardennes, knowing there was no chance the Luftwaffe wouldn’t bomb you as you crossed over their skies. The hundreds of men running out of food and medical supplies, struggling to resist Germany’s attacks, left you no option.

The three of you knew this would to be the outcome. You were ready to die trying.

“Goddamnit, Webster!” You shouted to yourself, Maggie’s intercoms no longer functioning as her cockpit was blown to smithereens from a German plane’s bomb.

There was only you and them in the air now, Dana Miller lost on the fly in. You could only hope her aircraft was the only casualty.

Thunder boomed right beside you. Except it was an array of shots that had destroyed your right turbine, causing your plane to lean comically to one side. Comically, yes, because laughs bubbled desperately out of your chest at the sight.

A few more miles and you’d be out of German occupied territory.

You only had to keep it together a little longer.

When gaining altitude became a lost battle to simply trying to keep your plane in the air, the Germans were nowhere to be seen. The RAF zooming by seconds later made you breathe a sign of relief.

You knew from the start returning home was unlikely. It mattered very little. One of your dog tags had lost its pair to the Alps. Steve had told you through radio before the rumors could reach you.

Bucky wasn’t coming home. What on Earth would be left for you if you did?

You grasped the chain around your neck as your plane plummeted towards the Belgian grass fields. The world at its end.

One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three—

You woke with a start, gasping for air as if you’ve been held underwater for too long. The covers had been kicked off you during the night, but even without them you still felt hot and choked up.

It’s been a long time since those kinds of dreams disturbed your sleep, you managing to keep them at bay enough that it was rare when they came now. Never unfamiliar though.

With a long sigh, you tried to pull it together. Washed your face in the sink. Drank some water and eyed the mini liquor bottles in the fridge. None worked. The sense of urgency overpowered you.

The feeling that everything was collapsing; that your plane was crashing over Belgium, half of it on fire, your sisters in arms gone, your two best friends gone.

You left your room with Bucky’s jacket held tightly against your chest, barely feeling the chill of the humid night air as you made your way down to the reception or wherever you could find something to distract you.

You found him on the landing after the first flight of stairs, leaning against the railing.

“Hey,” You called out softly, and Bucky turns to you in surprise. It goes away as soon as it comes, the moment he understands.

“Can’t sleep?”

You shake your head. “Bad dream.” You explained, and he nodded. Extended a paper cup in your direction, not saying anything. You took it gratefully, pausing before the first sip. “Did you—?”

Bucky gave you a tired smirk. “Two sugars, sugar. Still shit though.”

The pet name made you bite your lip. “Can’t be worse than Army coffee,” You shrugged. He was right though. It was shit. Tasted terribly, even worse than Bucky’s brew in the morning.

He chuckled bitterly at the face you made; his tone still light despite it. “And you still complain about mine.”

“Both taught me to appreciate the good coffees in life.”

Bucky clicked his tongue, and you both laughed. You shift, alternating the balance from one foot to the other. Wonder if you should say it.

Best friends don’t keep those things from each other. Best friends talk about their nightmares.

“It was a memory.”

Bucky blinked. Turned to watch your profile. “A memory?”

You hummed. It’s strange, talking about it— it’s not something you’re used to sharing anymore, not even with Steve. Some intimacies were so reserved to Bucky that you forgot you could do them with someone else.

“From when my plane crashed in Belgium. When I became ‘MIA’. Well, at least that’s the story S.H.I.E.L.D. made up while I was recovering from the serum.” Bucky’s eyes were soft when you looked at him finally. “Haven’t had one of those in a long time.”

Best friends don’t look at each other like that.

“They’re worse than nightmares.” Bucky stepped closer. “To me, at least. It feels… real. Like we’re back there, reliving it again.”

You nodded. Shifted closer, so close you and him were shoulder to shoulder. “It felt like the world was ending.” Shaky breath escaped bitten lips. “Still does.”

“It’s not.” He shook his head as if he’d said the wrong thing. “If it was, we’d know. Two suns in the horizon. See?”

Bucky flexed his fingers, brushing with yours gently. Your eyes followed the horizon he was pointing at with his metal arm, where a single sun began to peek through in orange and purple.

“It did end though, didn’t it? When my plane crashed. When you fell off the train. It ended with the Blip and it ended with Steve,”

He shook his head. “We wouldn’t be here if it had. We’re still here.”

“Not as we were.”

“No. Not as we were.” He sighed, leaning against the railing. His fingers at a distance. Suddenly you felt the need for the jacket. “D’ja think we missed our window, Y/N?”

His question took you by surprise. You blinked, tightening his jacket around you. “I’ve always wanted you with me at the end.”

Bucky frowned, looking at you like you’d grown an extra head. “Not Steve, not anyone else. You. But you weren’t there.”

“What—I wanted you too, but—”

“But I wasn’t there. We missed each other’s ends of the world.”

He shook his head, his eyes scanning your face. Confusion and incredulity stamped so very clearly in his features. You shifted and continued.

“So maybe that’s why it didn’t end. That’s why we’re still here. Maybe… maybe this is our window.”

Realization dawned on him while you bit your tongue. Confession at the tip of it.

A smile softened the lines on his forehead and brightened his eyes. “What if they nuke us right now?”

“Then I’m glad I left my room tonight.”

Bucky offered his hand, splayed open next to you. Your fingers interlaced with his and warmth spread through your body.

“No regrets, sugar?”

“None.” Just the one. You hid your face on his shoulder, hoping he wouldn’t notice the heat on your cheeks or the way your heartbeat picked up.

But that had been a long time ago. Maybe that window was truly lost. But you had this. And if the fiery hues in the sky were from an Armageddon and not the sun, there’s nowhere else you wanted to be.

Bucky kissed the top of your head. Wordlessly telling me too.

You raised your eyes at him, almost saying it. Almost loving him out loud.

“Sugar, I—”

Breath caught, hope spiking. “Yeah?”

A long exhale. “…we should try and sleep. Brooklyn’s a long way from here.”

Disappointment squeezed your heart. Foolish. What else could you be expecting?

“Alright.” You reluctantly got up, handing his jacket back. Not even that could protect you from the icyness at the pit of your stomach.

“No, keep it.” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. Red creeping up his neck from under the henley. “You can give it back tomorrow…”

You nodded. Your shoes looked very interesting as you wrapped the jacket around your shoulders again. “Okay. Good night, Buck.”

“Night, sugar.”

You walked away with weighted feet, as if fighting some kind of gravity that pulled you back to that spot next to him on the stairs. Not turning to see if there was an atomic sun lighting up the slow sunrise. Dissolving the world, only for it to reform again and throw you two back where you had always been.

The war. The train. The Blip. Steve.

This night.

Frustration made you hands shake as they hovered over the doorknob. How long could you stand to orbit him, and never make it to the destination? Nothing is made to fly forever.

One regret.

You have always been bold and brazen, except for this. Facing every challenge, fighting every fight, except battling this one fear.

Not this night.

Pretending the light in the horizon signaled the end and your time was running out, you ran back to where you had left Bucky. Relived that afternoon in England when you’d be separated in the morning and you should’ve run back to him. Summoning every ounce of courage the serum had left in your body.

Your resolve was set when Bucky himself rounded the corner. Blue eyes wild and dark brows knitted together in unruly urgency.

“Bucky! I—”

You managed a couple extra steps in his direction when he closed the distance between you, grabbing your face with flesh and metal.

A huff of surprise as you braced for collision.

It came in the form of a kiss, lips crashing into each other, the taste of yearning and coffee on your tongue.

You’d already taken the damn fall.

#emwrites #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x y/n #bucky x reader #atwci

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teleiapotami · 1 year

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NaLu Day 1

Happy NaLu Week! I am super excited to take part in my first NaLu week! I hope you all enjoy! Day One. @allaboutnalu @thenaluarchive

Anniversary

“Your anniversary with Lucy is coming up Natsu. Did you forget again this year?” Happy flew in circles above Natsu’s head. His tone was teasing, as though he already knew the answer to his question. Natsu chose not to answer, staring out at the quiet guildhall. It was a rainy day, so most people stayed home rather than hang out in the hall. The quiet atmosphere coupled with the grey skies had made his mood sour. Anniversary huh?

Natsu had not forgotten. In fact, he hadn’t forgotten any of the years that the others thought he had. He just didn’t understand anniversaries the way the others did. An anniversary is the celebration of the first time you did something, right? Why does only one first matter?

Looking around the guildhall he could see a hundred firsts as though they were printed into the wood grain of the walls and tables themselves. At the doorway, he could see the first time he brought Lucy to the guild. She had gaped at the sign with a look of such wonder and fulfillment that even then it made his pulse race.

The request board, though a completely different one now after so many years, held the memory of the first job they took together. Everlue’s mansion seemed like such a lifetime ago, and yet the lessons he learned about his partner were still at the forefront of his mind. It was there that he learned of her strong sense of justice, her compassion, and her uncompromising ideals.

In the corner of the room sat a large box full of iron scraps, Gajeel’s snack box. The smell of the iron always reminded him of the day Phantom Lord had attacked them and kidnapped Lucy. That was the first time he realized that she meant much more to him than just a teammate. The battle against Gajeel had taught him that Lucy was loyal, brave, trusting, and above all, she was his. He hadn’t known at the time why he felt that way, but it would always be a memory that resonated within him.

Hanging on the wall, a painting Reedus did of the Tenrou Team held the first time he realized that Lucy loved him. She hadn’t said it, and still wouldn’t for a long time after that moment, but he understood it all the same. In her fight with Kain Hikaru of Grimoire Heart, he found himself trapped in rubble and begged her to run and save herself, but she refused. The massive man had lifted her by the head to face Natsu. Expecting her to be afraid or resigned, instead her face wore the largest smile he had ever seen. Her words echoed in his mind: It’s always more fun when we are together. It was a mantra he carried with him every day.

The shelf behind the bar houses a large silver trophy bearing an engraved Fairy Tail emblem. Emblazoned on the base are the words ‘X791 Grand Magic Games – Fiore’s Greatest Guild – Fairy Tail’. In this relic rests many memories of firsts. The most significant was the moment he watched as Lucy died. In that moment he found himself facing the concept of a world without her and found it unbearable. That horrific moment was branded into his mind as the same moment that he realized he was in love with Lucy. He swore to save and protect her future, a vow he maintains even now.

Hanging from the rafters is a tattered flag with the guild emblem on it. The same one he pulled from the rubble just before the war against Alvarez. The bittersweet feeling matches the tattered remains perfectly, as this is the memory of the first (and last) time he left Lucy behind. A year in seclusion, training to become strong enough to protect Lucy’s future forever. But for her, it was a year of seclusion without him or any of their friends. Looking back at the training time now, Natsu can see that the most valuable lesson learned in that year was how much he wanted to be by her side, always.

“I’m going for a walk Happy; I’ll see you back home.” He wanders absently out into the drizzling rain. Even the weather held an anniversary for him. It was raining like this the day he first kissed her.

A picnic in South Gate turned into a mad dash for cover from the sudden downpour. The sound of her giggles and squeals still rang in his ears, bringing a smile to his lips. Hiding under a small awning, they watched the rain fall from the sunny sky. His arm was around her shoulders, drying the wetness from her clothes with his warmth. She told him of Sunbursts, a kind of rain shower that bursts forth from a sunny sky, just like the one that day. He’d watched her face as she spoke of how her mother told her that Sunbursts always preempted some of the most beautiful moments in life because they guaranteed a rainbow at the end. When she turned and smiled up at him he captured her lips with his own, leaving both of them glassy-eyed and panting gently. “I guess your mom was right…” he’d murmured to her. She had thrown her arms around his neck, attaching the memory of their second kiss to the sound of rain on the pavement as well.

Passing by the apartment on Strawberry Street was always full of memories. Glancing up at the window made him grin at the number of times he’d broken into her home to wait for her. His favorite anniversary held there was the night they had slept together. A long mission surrounded by their team, with no time to themselves, ended with the couple tangled together in Lucy’s bed. Exploring each other’s bodies had been the sweetest adventure, and it was one Natsu enjoyed embarking on as often as she would let him.

Ahead and to the left stood the trinket store where he purchased the small ring that changed their world in a big way. He’d never dreamt of being married, but when a glint in the window caught his eye, he couldn’t look away. A braided silver band with a golden strand twined through it supported twelve small diamonds surrounding a star-shaped opal. He had begged a loan from the only man he knew could keep a secret to buy it. How could he work extra to save for it quickly when Lucy went with him on every job? Gray had agreed, only after Natsu showed him the ring. It was perfect for Lucy, and there would never be a better one.

Looking up he realized he had almost made it to their house. Quickening his pace he crossed the remaining distance and slipped inside. His clothes steamed dry as he made his way to the kitchen where he could hear Lucy singing to herself. Wrapping his arms around her from behind, he planted his chin on her shoulder. She turned in his arms and kissed him softly, studying his face.

“Hey, what’s up? You look like something is bothering you.”

He smiled slightly and brushed his nose against hers. “Nah, I was just thinking about our anniversary.”

She pressed another gentle kiss against his lips. “Which one?” The question made Natsu grin. He didn’t know why he let the others get to him. He may not celebrate anniversaries the way others expected him to, but his Lucy understood him. Moreover, she accepted his way of thinking and loved him for it. “All of them.” He buried his face into her neck, inhaling his favorite scent in the world. “I love you, Luce.”

Find this and more of my work on AO3!

#naluweek2023 #fairy tail #fairy tail nalu #ao3 #creative writing #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #archive of our own #fairy tail fanfic #natsu x lucy #ao3 fanfic

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mangoshorthand · 1 year

Text

Thing of the Past- [Five Hargreeves x F Reader]. Ch1 (Hard Feelings Part 4)

SUMMARY: You can't avoid it any longer: Five has to meet your parents. It goes more wrong than you could possibly imagine, spiralling to bring up secrets he'd rather stay buried.

⚠️TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ Chapter One - Chapter Two - Chapter Three - Chapter Four - Chapter Five - Chapter Six - Chapter Seven - Chapter Eight - Chapter Nine - Chapter Ten - Chapter Eleven/Epilogue

You're getting married. You have a baby. No avoiding it.

Reader is unavoidably an OC at this point. When I tag this as #Number Five Imagine, I never said it wasn't going to be tough. 😜

⚠️Please heed content warning⚠️

Chapter One: Bone Structure

You couldn’t put it off forever. You had a fifteen-month-old daughter and you were about to get married. They’d known you were seeing a ‘famous guy’ since the JUICED scandal. Your mother scolded you for only telling her you’d been pregnant once Aoife was born, but had then quickly forgotten it in talking about how nobody appreciated her at work. You've always thought that your mother seems to struggle with object permanence- she behaves like the stereotype of a beleaguered mother when directly confronted with you, but your existence doesn't seem to occur to her otherwise. She always seems to forget that the phone goes two ways.

Aoife’s asleep in the car seat. In the passenger seat beside you, Five reaches over and removes the pacifier drooping from her mouth. He can’t resist running his thumb down her chubby cheek as he does so.

Your knuckles go white on the wheel.

“Are you ok?”

The familiar feeling of foreboding is rising. You’re a block away and the familiar sights assault you. Home, yes, but not like the Academy, or even like your apartment. The old feeling of resignation comes on you again. It’s not dread, it’s more an obligation weighing in the pit of your stomach.

He senses you’re not okay.

“…You don’t talk about them often.”

“And there’s a good reason for that.”

To Five, you don’t sound like yourself. You're…detached; something hidden behind an ironic cynicism that would have looked better on him.

“Pull over,” he murmurs.

You do, a little way down the street. Though the engine stilling has been known to wake her before, Aoife stays mercifully asleep on this occasion.

“Tell me.”

You breathe in.

“Can you…play nice? For me?”

His brow contracts, “I’ll try. But why would I have to?”

“They’re…weird.”

He tilts his head, “You know I can cope with weird.”

You stare directly out of the windshield. There it is, the modest colonial in which you’d spent the first eighteen years of your life. White picket fence and all. The one you’d left and never looked back. He won’t get it unless he sees it- how to even begin to explain?

“It is what it is.” you sigh and give him a rueful smile, “Just…don’t be as honest as usual.”

He gets it; he has to up his bullshit-taking capacity. He places a hand on your knee, “Babies are excellent meat-shields.”

You nod and prepare yourself.

“Let’s get it over with.”

You get out of the car and unstrap Aoife from her car-seat. She stirs and fusses, so you replace the pacifier. She rubs at her eyes with one clumsy arm and then sneezes suddenly: as always, a blue flash accompanies it and she judders in your arms: a quasi-spatial jump she can't control. Though she has Five's power, she can't use it volitionally yet and the effects she does experience are weak and fleeting.

According to Five, he had been similar, only managing to control the ‘sneeze-blinks’ when he was four.

"Apparently every time I was sick, I used to blink to random places in the house and throw a tantrum,” he’d explained

“That’s still how you act when you’re sick,” you’d laughed.

Now, with Aoife’s diaper bag over one shoulder, Five takes your free hand and you lead him down the sidewalk, through the front yard and to the door.

You ring the bell. The ding-dong inside tolls with gloomy portents. The door creaks on its hinges just the way you remember.

“Oh BABY!” Your mother pulls you into an abrupt, rib-crushing hug. “Oh it’s SO good to see you!”

She holds you on the doorstep, eyes closed. Five pastes on his customer service smile, hands clasped behind his back and waits patiently. He looks down at Aoife, struggling under her grandmother's arm pinned to her head.

She is probably in her mid-sixties. She’s angular, hair tied tight in a scrunchie and glasses at the end of her nose.

To Five’s eye, she hugs her daughter for a little longer than is necessary or, indeed, comfortable for an onlooker. He notes your poker-stiff body language.

“Hi Mom. Hi…” you try to extricate yourself, “I’ve brought them to meet you.”

Finally, your mother lets you go and her eyes fall on the baby.

“Oh she’s BEAUTIFUL. Oh, just look at her little hands. Oh, she gets those fingers from me.”

She looks up at Five, shoves past you and pulls him into another of the too-hard-too-long hugs. He recoils a little...but he has to play nice…

“And oh, aren’t you a smart young man? It’s SO good to meet you Five.”

Great. ‘Young man’ again.

“Er- thank you, Samantha, likewise.”

“Oh no,” she says, arms holding him shaking with the hand-gestures she would otherwise be making, “Not Samantha. I go by Geri now. It’s my middle name. Suits me better.”

“Okay. Geri.”

You feel your eyebrow raise. This is new. Her voice as she says it is affected. It reminds you of the time she signed up to an Ancestry site and didn't shut up about how she could trace her lineage back to the Stuart era for roughly five years. She releases a highly uncomfortable Five and holds him at arms’ length.

“OH, and so handsome!”

He laughs politely as she ushers them over the threshold, cooing over the baby and asking inane questions about the journey.

“Oh, your father won’t even drive on the interstate anymore. I’ve said to him so many times- if you can’t drive the interstate, you can’t drive, (OH look, she knows her grandma! Look at that little face!) But will he give up his license? No siree. You know what he’s like, never listens to a word I say. I may as well talk to that wall.”

The house is like something out of one of the Commission’s training videos; a time warp to approximately 1978. The furniture is good quality mid-century. In the right setting, he’d definitely approve, but not so much here. Assorted VHS tapes and saccharine china figures of women in period clothing line the dresser. All along one wall are pictures of you as a little girl. Yearly school photos, horribly staged first-communion photos and many others. He notices there’s much fewer pictures post-puberty.

Your dad sits in an easy chair in front of the TV. He’s older than Geri- has to be pushing eighty. He’s thin, reedy and unhealthy looking. He turns his head with difficulty as they walk in.

“Hello sweetheart. Long time no see,” then he turns to Five, “And hello to you. You’ll have to excuse my not getting up to greet you, I’m a little stiff today.”

Five shakes his hand and sits on a couch nearest to him.

“Nice to meet you sir. Old age. Quite the bastard, ain’t she?”

Your dad laughs.

“Bert,” he introduces himself, “Five, right?”

“Mhm.” Five gives a little nod.

“Yeah. Part of that…Umbrella thing?”

“That’s the one.”

"She had the action figures I think."

Five looks over at you, amused.

"You never told me that!"

"I'd forgotten. Was it Klaus and Allison, Dad?"

"No idea." he mumbles, his attention span already waning.

"Not me?" asks Five

"Nah. I was never particularly interested in you."

Five grins, "What changed?"

Geri cuts in.

“Oh FIVE, you have to show us your powers. Are you the one with all the tentacles?”

He sighs, “I’m the space and time-travel one. The tentacles were Ben. He's dead.”

Geri’s delighted expression doesn’t falter as Five mentions this loss:

“You have to show us.”

Five demurs but she keeps trying to persuade him. After his second refusal, you feel obligated to intervene on his behalf:

“He’s not a performing seal, Mom.”

“Leave the boy alone, Sam- I mean, Geri.” Bert’s voice is stern but low.

Geri ignores her husband.

“But you can time travel?”

“Only a little.” he smiles politely.

“Not enough to avoid knocking up my daughter, am I right?”

This is clearly Bert’s idea of a joke so Five graces him with a strained smile.

“Even if I could, I wouldn’t.”

“Oh! Let me hold her!!”

Geri springs for Aoife with speed that makes her jump and cry.

“Slow down Mom- it’s upsetting her.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. She just wants a Gam-gam hug.”

Aoife begins to fuss and wriggle in the grasp of the unfamiliar and loud person.

"Ma Dada ma!" she protests, as Geri bounces her ineffectively on her knee.

Five looks at her with sympathy. Tell me about it, Bambino.

“So- how do we actually pronounce her name?” asks Bert.

“Ee-fa.”

Five notices the twitch of annoyance on your face.

“It’s spelled funny,” says Bert, eyes still predominantly on an old episode of Cheers, “You young folk like your kids to be different.”

“It’s an old name actually,” says Five, struggling now to keep the annoyance out of his own voice. His smile has become rather fixed. “It’s Gaelic. I was born in Dublin.”

“Coffee?” asks Geri, dumping her grizzling granddaughter unceremoniously onto her mother’s lap. There’s a noise of general assent, “can you help me, Five? I don’t know how you take your coffee.”

“Just black, thank you.”

He smiles and gives her the sort of nod that usually quells people…but it’s ineffective on Geri. Apparently, nothing can stop her when she gets an idea in her head. A little like her daughter, he supposes.

“Still, there’s a lot for little old me to carry.” She smiles at him expectantly.

Pasting back on his customer-service smile, he claps his hands to his knees and rises; always in anticipation of old-man back pain that never comes. He follows Geri towards the kitchen.

As you try to soothe the fussy baby, Five exchanges a glance with you. You try to convey apology.

“I’ll get her some food,” he says, shouldering the diaper bag.

The kitchen is more of the same. Formica surfaces, patterned linoleum and miles of wood panelling. As Geri fusses with the coffee pot, Five places his hands in his pockets and leans against the kitchen surface as the puree warms in the ancient microwave. He crosses one ankle over the other. He’s in control here.

“So,” she turns around. “You’re an Irish boy? Top o’ the mornin’ to ye'.”

Five supresses a cringe. Play nice…play nice.

“I wouldn’t go that far. Sure, I was born there but I stayed for less than a week before getting adopted. I'm a New Yorker, really.”

“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m Irish, you know. My paternal great-grandmother was born there."

She steps in front of him. She's uncomfortably close, her feet are either side of his protruding ankles.

"You can always tell an Irish lad…it’s in the bone structure.”

She places two fingers either side of his jaw bone in a way that reminds him forcibly of The Handler. As with her, he maintains his unfazed demeanor; the only way to win this game is not to play. She runs each finger down to meet at his chin, leaving the skin in their wake to tingle unpleasantly.

The microwave beeps and he’s pleased to have an excuse to step out from in between her and the kitchen surface. As he stirs and tests the temperature against his inner wrist, she lowers her voice to a stage whisper.

“I am so sorry about Bert. So rude. I think it would be nice one day for me to come visit the city and spend some time just us four. Bert doesn’t get out much these days and it would be nice to have a little time away from him. Maybe you can show me the city.”

Something about her tone lets him know that 'you' isn't plural in her last sentence. He searches for a response, but she doesn’t really require one.

“We’ve not really seen eye to eye in over fifteen years now, Five. You know how it is? I stay because of the house but we’re not husband and wife anymore. Not really. He's never known how to treat a woman.”

“Okay.” says Five, his veneer of politeness starting to crack as annoyance at this woman begins to build. What is happening here?

She carries on as if he hasn't spoken:

“I spend most of my time in my room. It’s easier than dealing with his sniping. I got plenty of friends,” she lowers her voice even further, “I even have a guy, Jude. That makes it easier. Of course, you can’t tell her this. She’s tied to her father’s apron strings. She just doesn’t want to understand.” she sighs, looking put-upon.

Are you crazy, lady?

He bites back the instinctive response.

“Coffee’s done,” he says, smartly stepping to the pot and grabbing a tray from behind the microwave.

“You understand how things are, right Five?”

“Oh I think I got that pretty much straightened out,” he says, “Milk?”

She places the carton on the tray while he opens various cabinets in search of mugs. Gotta keep busy.

“So, Five, when’s the wedding?”

"A month, today, actually." he surprises himself with this reflection, "Invitations will be sent later this week. We're a little tardy but it's a small wedding."

“Which church?”

He snorts a little, his resolve cracking, “Yeah, not gonna be a church.”

“But why?”

“I’d guess two more-or-less atheists and their bastard child might be out of place.”

Okay…he has to roll back the sarcasm.

She doesn't react, changing tactic unconsciously- he doesn't think she's aware that she's employing tactics. Finally, he finds the mugs and grabs four. He turns back to place them on the tray to find her nearer to him.

"I take it the dress code is black tie?"

"Not strictly. We'll both be dressed formally though."

"It was nice of you to dress up to see us today, Number Five. You cut an impressive figure."

It's not her words that get to him, it's the conspiratorial smile she gives as she moves even closer to him, the little flick of her eyes as she looks him up and down. Suppressing a shudder, he steps out smartly from her path. He places the mugs haphazardly onto the tray along with Aoife's finished food. Before she can respond, he blinks out of the door.

He catches your eye as he re-emerges from his spatial portal. His eyes widen, communicating disbelief. You pass a brief, unspoken conversation behind Bert’s back.

What the fuck was that?!

Oh God, what has she said?

He places the tray on the coffee table, tests the food's temperature again and sits down next to you. He holds out his arms for Aoife and begins to feed her. He’s deliberately placed himself in between you and the arm of the couch.

"Hai fame, piccolo? Ti piacciono gli ignami?"

As Geri comes into the room, his efforts to avoid her seem in vain. Unable to sit beside him on the couch, she sits on the arm instead, right next to him, effectively thwarting his attempts to block her.

“And he speaks Italian- what a man!” she simpers and he avoids her eye. Then, turning to you, “You’d better believe I didn’t have any help when you were this little.”

Bert grunts.

“No, I had to do everything myself. ‘I don’t know what to do with babies’, that’s what he said-”

“Well, I didn’t.” he mumbles, still watching Cheers.

“-But Five knows it’s all about practice, don’t you?”

He ignores her, spooning a little pureed yam off Aoife's lip. She turns back to you.

“You girls have it so easy these days. There were no modern men when you were born.”

Five doubts this. The 90s weren’t exactly the dark ages.

“Ooh! Show me the ring!”

Your mother leans over Five and Aoife and grabs your left hand. Sensing this, your father turns over to baseball: you’re thankful- this was one of your past rituals when Mom became too full-on. If you put on sport and comment on the game, you can kinda talk together while having an excuse to not talk to her.

She twists your wrist, looking at the ring in different lights.

“Darling, an engagement ring is supposed to have a diamond.” she says, as if you’ve never heard of the concept.

“I don’t like diamonds, Mom."

“But how will people know it's an engagement ring?"

"I know it's an engagement ring. That's all that matters."

She scoffs, "I just wish you'd consulted me before you chose it.”

“The cubs are doing well this season,” no more than a mumble from Bert.

Five breathes out through his nose, “I chose it, actually. Considering it’s an engagement ring, that would make sense, don’t you think?”

“Oh, well it is lovely, but a diamond symbolizes eternal love-”

“Oh really?” says Five, the dangerous sarcasm you recognize creeping into his voice, “Does your engagement ring have a diamond, Geri?”

“Of course!” she shows him. Clearly, she has not understood the sting in his question’s tail.

“Very pretty." he says, testily.

You draw Five's eye and give him a slightly pleading smile. He nods minutely.

"Well, Five chose perfectly. He knew I wouldn't want a diamond."

“Convenient for your bank balance, eh Five?” grunts Bert.

Geri shoots him a filthy look. “Don't be stupid. Money is no object for Reginald Hargreeves’ son.”

You feel like your brain is about to turn inside out from embarrassment, looking down at the phone in your hand, you send Lila a quick message.

YOU: 🚨🚨🚨INITIATE EMERGENCY PARENTAL PROTOCOL. EXTRACTION NEEDED. GO GO GO.

And, thank fuck, she replies immediately.

LILA: 10-4 good buddy.

In under a minute, she calls you. You owe her flowers. Five looks at your phone ringing and then back at you.

‘Don’t you dare leave me’, his eyes say.

Still on the couch, you answer the phone and turn the volume way down.

“Hello?”

“Hey sweet. Let’s get you outta there.”

“Yes.”

“So has Five murdered anyone yet? Is that what’s happening here?”

You decide the best way to take advantage of this opportunity.

“Oh no!”

“Huh?”

“Wow that sounds serious.”

She begins to chortle and you answer her pretended utterances,

“You need the whole Academy? Now?”

“Yeah, there’s a shitload of scotch flooding a subway station and we need Five’s particular skills.”

“Okay, I’ll tell Number Five immediately. We’ll come as soon as we can!”

“Tell me everything.”

“Of course, goodbye Police Commissioner.”

You hang up to her laughter.

Five looks questioningly at you.

“It’s terrible news. There’s a…quantum suspension…node back in the city. Spatial anomalies everywhere.”

Five cottons on, you see his mouth spasm.

“Heavens, not a quantum suspension node!”

You give him a look: ‘don’t ruin it asshole!’

He stands up, drawing himself up to his full height and squaring his shoulders in a way clearly designed to make you laugh.

“There’s no time to lose. Geri, Bert, we’re sorry to leave so soon...but the world needs me.”

You supress a laugh with difficulty. Your mother, gullible as always, looks impressed. Though you can’t see your father’s face, you’re fairly sure this won’t have fooled him. You’ll call him later.

“What the fuck was that?”

Five drives down the street, determinedly avoiding the eyes of your waving mother from the bottom of the yard.

“I told you.” you say, palms of your hands pressed against your eyes, "I need a fucking drink."

Once you’re back onto the main highway, he says,

“Seriously: what the hell?”

“What happened in the kitchen?”

He sighs. He can’t not tell you. He is not equipped for this.

“She…your parents’ marriage. I’m getting the impression it’s a little…unsteady?”

“Oh god.” You put your head in your hands.

“This might be hard to hear. She told me not to tell you but fuck that. She told me she’s been having an affair.”

He braces himself for the hurt, for the shock, but instead you just snort darkly.

“Yeah? Sure she has. What's this one called?”

"Jude." he says, confused.

You laugh fully this time, “Probably just some guy she met over online poker and never in person. She was 'with' this guy from Ontario for years and it never went beyond spicy messages.”

“What?”

“It’s a fantasy Five. Everything is with her. She tells herself whatever story she can to get through the dull-ass life she refuses to actually do anything about. I’ve known about this shit for years.”

He takes a deep breath.

"She also...kind of came onto me a bit."

"Oh no."

Again, your face doesn't register the shock he'd expected, you just crumple into a deep cringe.

"I'm sorrrry."

"It wasn't so bad. She was just a little creepy. Touched my face and backed me into the kitchen counter a bit. Called me Number Five."

You make a disgruntled little noise that conveys disgust and sympathy in equal measure.

"Are you ok?"

"Sure I am. I've dealt with worse than her. Are you ok?"

You sigh deeply, "I don't know why I didn't expect it. I'm sorry. I don't know why I let her get you alone. She did the same thing to my boyfriend in high school. She'll go for any man she can corner. First she'll bitch about my Dad and then she'll go all 'oooh I need a big strong man to save me from my meaaan husband.' "

Five keeps his eyes on the road. How did you come from her?

“Up until I was thirteen it felt like she was the best Mom I could have asked for. Affectionate, loving, supportive…but then she just…withdrew. Pretty much as soon as I stopped being a kid she could dress and project her personality onto. She just disappeared one day- moved into the spare room and sat on the computer for the next five years. Dad was a shit parent but at least he stepped up then; actually spoke to me on my own terms, cared a little about what interested me. With Mom it's a single question about me and then right on back to her bullshit.”

You fall into exasperated silence. He doesn’t know what to say. As trauma goes it’s fairly tame, but it still sucks

“Families, eh?”

“I much prefer yours to mine,” you mumble.

He laughs a little to himself.

“You’re telling me the Von Trapp Family Killers are the normal ones here?"

"Don't kid yourself Five." a smile breaks through your dour expression, "you could never pull off lederhosen."

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed.) @dilfjohhny , @sunsunhe, @w4stedtr4sh, @nevbrooke-555, @theredvelvetbitch, @td-miley01, @five-hxrgreeves, @rorygi1more, @jamiebower88

Masterpost

Alternatively, join me on A03. Here is a link to the whole series

Comments would be appreciated here or on ao3 because I'm a needy ho.

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arcsimper5 · 11 months

Note

Thank you so much for Been Too Long. Love you so much thank you 😭

My ass absolutely has fallen in love with Echo so anytime I see a fic with him on my dash I save it to read when I get home and oh boy was I not disappointed. This one is going straight into my “read again every night” pile.

So, once again, love you thank you sm

THANK YOU! You're so sweet, anon!

I'm so glad you liked it, and seeing as you love Echo, I thought I'd give you another 'sweet' treat (hehe).

Please enjoy:

Strawberries Echo x Reader (GN) No real warnings, a bit of horniness and flirting with added strawberry eating.

“So, wait… you’re telling me that you’ve never tried chocolate? Like, ever?”

Your voice was a little more high pitched than you had intended, but as you stared at Echo with wide eyes, disbelief written over your features, you were genuinely perplexed.

To his credit, Echo kept his face more or less neutral, though the beginnings of a smile were tugging at his lips at your shocked reaction.

“Nope,” he shrugged, pulling his gaze from yours to look down at the plate of chocolate covered strawberries between you. You’d decided on a quick snack break just away from your ship, the repairs that had been entrusted to you both almost complete and way ahead of schedule.

You often shared your delicacies and treats with Echo, forever amazed at his lack of experience when it came to food, enjoying his genuine reactions and his animated expressions.

“We always heard about it, natborns and our Generals and the like wouldn’t stop raving about it, but we were never…”

He trailed off for a moment, eyes turning sad.

“I guess Clones weren’t important enough to be given something so… decadent.”

Not for the first time in your conversations with the ARC, your heart broke a little, eyes stinging at his resigned expression. The treatment of the Clones had never sat right with you, especially after you began getting to know them. They were about as similar as chalk was to cheese, each carving out their own identity through haircuts, tattoos, behaviours… they truly were individuals, and it angered you how they were all often treated the same.

Shaking off the anger beginning to rise in your veins, you offered him a smile, one he returned as he sheepishly met your gaze once again, cheeks flushed.

“Well, I’ll give you every decadent thing I possibly can,” you nodded, delicately picking up one of the strawberries and holding it out to him.

It was a milk chocolate covered one, large and plump underneath, picked by hand from your hydroponics station on your ship. Growing food had always been a part of your life, and just because your home was now on board a starship, you’d made sure you had a few pieces of your past with you.

Echo regarded it with suspicion for a moment, hesitating. You held in a giggle as he leant forward, sniffing it, one eyebrow arching as the sweet scent filled his nose.

“Do you not trust me?” you pouted, feigning hurt, a laugh passing your lips as he rolled his eyes and bought his hand up to yours, taking the treat gingerly from you with his forefinger and thumb.

He held it up at eye level, inspecting the smooth surface for a moment before he swallowed hard, bracing himself and taking a bite from the chocolate coated tip.

Immediately, his eyes widened as the chocolate cracked and gave way, his teeth cutting easily through the sweet flesh of the strawberry beneath.

It was tangy but sweet, the chocolate elevating it to a level he had never experienced before, his expression morphing into one of utter ecstasy as he chewed, savouring the flavour.

His eyes fluttered closed as he allowed the sweetness to coat his tongue, the chocolate beginning to melt in his mouth, and a soft groan of pleasure left his throat.

The sound travelled straight to your crotch, heat tingling through you as your cheeks flushed brightly. His enjoyment sounded sensual, and it was almost embarrassing how much it turned you on.

You’d always found Echo attractive, his personality and beautiful, large eyes that expressed so much capturing your heart completely and utterly soon after you’d met him, not that you’d ever told him.

Running from the Empire and freeing brothers and building a resistance was not exactly the ideal backdrop for romance. And yet, you treasured these moments with him, sat in the hangar on a ragged blanket, sharing your favourite things with him.

“So,” you prompted, trying to distract yourself from the electric feeling running through your body, “what do you think?”

Echo didn’t respond, only met your gaze as he took another bite, letting out another shuddering groan of pleasure. It was all you could do to not keen at the sound, your thighs pressed together, trying to ignore the heat coming from your core now.

If he only knew what he did to you…

“This is the best thing I think I’ve ever tasted,” Echo managed after a moment, tongue darting out to lick his lips before he took another large bite, the juice of the strawberry beginning to run down his chin as he bit into it, his eyes rolling again, though for different reasons.

You could only watch as he devoured the treat like it was the last thing he’d ever eat, chocolate smeared on his lips as he reached the end of the strawberry, looking at it hungrily.

“Don’t eat the stem!” you warned quickly, his eyes opening again, pupils blown, “That bit won’t taste nice!”

Echo begrudgingly murmured in disappointment as he placed the stem back onto the plate, immediately reaching for another strawberry, a white chocolate one this time.

There was no hesitation as he popped it into his mouth, sucking on the end this time, licking away the chocolate until the strawberry was exposed and he bit into it, another streak of juice trickling down his chin.

Again, he hummed in enjoyment, eyes fluttering as he ate it quickly, placing the stem back onto the plate and meeting your gaze again, lips reddened from the strawberry and plumped by the tartness.

He grinned happily, smile faltering when he met your gaze again, taking in your slightly slack jawed expression, your eyes wide as you looked him over.

Suddenly self conscious, he lifted his hand to his mouth, cleaning his lips and realising he had juice on his chin, attempting to wipe it away.

“I, I’m sorry, that was… I kind of got swept up in the moment,” he murmured sheepishly, a small smile tilting his lips as he wiped over them again, a streak of red still visible on his chin.

“It’s okay,” you breathed, swallowing hard as you leant closer, bringing your hand up to his face automatically. He practically froze as your thumb ghosted over his lips, taking the last few smears of chocolate away before sweeping over his chin, gathering the last of the errant juice that he’d missed, his entire body shuddering at the motion.

You almost fainted when he tilted his head up a little, capturing your thumb between his lips and sucking delicately, his tongue lathing over the pad, cleaning up everything you had caught with it.

As your breath hitched, he pulled away suddenly, blinking and exhaling lowly, expression set serious once more.

“Stars, I… I’m sorry,” he breathed, scrambling back, “that was… that was so inappropriate, I’m sorry, I…”

Even as he rambled an apology, you spotted another, tiny smear of chocolate under his bottom lip, your eyes fixed on it as he moved to stand, still murmuring how sorry he was, stopped by your hand lacing with his, pulling him back down.

“You… You missed a little bit,” you all but whispered, Echo’s eyes wide and fixed on yours as you bought your thumb back to his chin, capturing the last of the chocolate and sweeping across his lip before withdrawing it and bringing your thumb to your own mouth, sucking the remnants off.

You were shivering with anxiety, knowing that this was new territory for both of you, Echo’s breathing fast and sharp as he watched you clean your thumb, your gaze still locked with his.

A soft curse escaped his lips, still watching you intently as you picked up another strawberry from the plate and offered it to him, eagerly pressing it towards his lips.

Echo almost whimpered as the chocolate covered tip touched his mouth, opening up to let his tongue flick over the sweetness, allowing you to feed it to him with a tender touch, leaning into you.

His eyes remained locked on yours as he bit down, the cracking of the chocolate audible. Reaching the end of the fruit, his lips wrapped around your fingertips, tongue gently lathing over them before you removed the stalk, your eyes blown with arousal.

“Can I?” he murmured lowly, picking up another white chocolate strawberry and offering it to you, your heart beating wildly in your chest as you nodded.

Gentle and slow, Echo placed the strawberry against your lips, his pupils dilated, mouth slightly parted and tongue darting out to wet his lips as you opened yourself to it, sucking on the chocolate.

He groaned low in his chest, closing his eyes, steeling himself for a moment before allowing himself to continue watching, the bulge forming under his blacks now visible and large.

“F-Fuck, Meshla,” he breathed, pressing a little bit hard, “you’re so kriffing hot…”

It was all you could do to not whimper at his words, your stomach churning with want, heat spreading through every cell of your body.

Taking one last bite, you pulled away, swallowing the sweetness quickly, about to ask Echo what this meant, if he felt the same, when he dropped the stalk and wrapped his flesh hand around the back of your neck, crashing his lips into yours.

He tasted of chocolate and strawberries and warmth and something distinctly him, his tongue tangling with yours as he pulled you into his lap, remaining strawberries forgotten by your side while you straddled him, his hand smoothing down to your hips, clutching at you.

“Well, damn,” he breathed when you finally parted, eyes sparkling with desire, “seems like I was wrong. You have to be the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.”

“Echo!” you giggled coyly, almost able to pretend you weren’t currently straddling him in the hangar, panting for breath where he’d kissed you so thoroughly.

“Seems like I have to make you believe it,” he hummed, pulling you back down against him.

One thing was sure; Strawberries were your new favourite treat.

#star wars #tcw #clone wars #tbb echo #answer #anon ask #drabble #clone thirsting #daniwrites

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