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silverwings22 · 2 years

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Caught in the Crosshairs: Chapter 45: In My Daughter's Eyes- Martina McBride

Series warnings: Smut, mind control, canon typical violence, childhood trauma, language, chronic illness

Chapter Warnings: blood loss,

Translations: di'kut: idiot buir: mother/father ram'ser: sniper

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Every time Phee told a story, it got more fantastical. Miria was seated at the bar, fighting a pounding headache as the other woman entertained Bolo and Ketch with a tale of fighting an octomorph. She tried to tell herself everything was fine by glancing at members of the team one by one. Echo, Tech, and Hunter were out of armor, in their vests and pants that replaced their blacks after they'd started reconfiguring their armor. She dressed much the same, though she kept her favorite leather sachel over her shoulder and her cape on. Sometimes she missed her dresses and soft leather tabards, but those were the uniform of another life.

"Those two will believe anything." Echo snorted as Phee launched into another story. Hunter nodded in agreement.

"Maybe there's some truth in her tall tales." Miria mumbled. "She does seem to keep busy when she's away."

"You can't really think there's a treasure at the end of every story." Hunter smiled.

"No. But wouldn't it be nice?" She smiled weakly and sipped at a glass of lukewarm water. It didn't particularly aid her nausea, but it was something.

"You okay?" Echo leaned back to get a better look at her. The circles around her eyes looked worse today.

"Just tired, dear. I had another nosebleed this morning." She admitted. A bad one, too, that had left her dizzy all day long. It was fortunate they didn't have a mission. "Otherwise, I'd have gone with Omega and Wrecker to the junkyard."

"They are capable of finding a compressor" Tech patted her shoulder gently. "Finish your water. Hydration will help your recovery process."

Miria nodded and took another swallow as Tech stepped over by his brothers. Hunter kept his voice low, using Phee's droning to keep the conversation between the clones. "How much blood did she lose?"

"Judging by the state of the fresher when I found her with her head in the sink… at least a liter. For someone of her size, that is over a quarter of her estimated blood volume." Tech sighed.

"She's getting worse." Echo muttered. "She needs to go to Naboo. Her aunt's up to something, it might save her."

Hunter glanced at the woman at the end of the bar. Her head was low, the tension in her neck threatening to snap it. All he could think of was the promise he'd made to take her back to Naboo at the end, and bury her there. "Not Naboo. Not yet."

Tech opened his mouth to protest when Wrecker and Omega walked in with a box of parts. "One compressor, as promised. And some more cool stuff we found!"

Tech picked up the part he requested and examined it. "Thank you. The rest of this could have remained in the junkyard."

Omega pouted a little and picked up a flattish disk, hopping over to Miria. "I thought this was cool."

Miria examined it, setting her water aside. "Hm. I've never seen anything like this. Phee, you're more versed in archeological finds than I am. What do you think?"

The ever cheerful pilot took the part and opened it, grinning. "Ooh. This looks old." She wiggled it around until it opened. "These look like coordinate markings."

"Coordinates? To where?" Miria was curious now, and stood to follow her over to her droid Mel. The chunky little tin can scanned the item.

"The Kaldar Trinary system." Phee grinned. "It's a compass!"

Tech frowned. "I have no data for such a system."

"The best treasures are usually off grid." Phee smirked.

"Treasure!?" Omega beamed.

"Our last treasure hunt didn't go well." Echo said solemnly.

Hunter just shook his head as Omega started squeaking with excitement. Phee smiled. "You didn't have a professional like me. I mean, I could go get it myself. Or you can come and we'll split it 50-50. What do you think?"

Wrecker nodded. "It's not like we're on a mission."

Hunter groaned. "Back me up here, Miri."

Miria steepled her fingers, contemplating hard. Treasure was a powerful motivation, not for herself but her desire to provide for her team when she was dead and gone. They could have a future without her this way… "It may be worth the time, Hunter."

"That's not what I meant by back me up." He sighed, but walked over to her. "If we do this, are you sure you can?" He asked softly. "You had a bad morning."

"I have a lot of those." She smiled. "I'll be okay, if it's helping you all. I can do it."

Hunter sighed and looked over at Omega's pleading eyes. "Alright then."

Hunter was twirling his knife as they approached the Kaldar Trinary system, listening to Phee tell Omega a story about the Blade of Zakata Par. He could keep an eye on her, Omega, and Miria sitting under the memorial from this position.

"I've been to countless worlds finding priceless artifacts." Phee was saying.

"Because you're a pirate." Hunter grumbled.

"I prefer 'liberator of ancient treasures'." Phee winked.

From the floor, Miria smiled faintly. "Leave her be, Hunter."

The sergeant grumbled and walked over to her, sheathing his knife. "You sure you're up to this? It seems like a long shot."

"If it's as priceless as Phee claims, it could save all your lives. A lifetime of comfort and stability is not to be scoffed at." She gave him a wise look.

"I'm even more worried now. You're talking like you won't be with us." He narrowed his eyes.

"My time is limited. But if we find this, I could spend it building you a home. That's a worthy goal." She explained. "You'd like that better than me throwing myself at the Empire."

He sighed. "Why do I feel like you're up to something?"

"I'm really not." She stood quietly as Tech brought them in for a landing, touching the memorial gently. There was a letter tucked gently in between the whiskey bottle and Lula, clumsy writing with Crosshair’s name printed on the envelope. Hunter patted her arm and went to oversee the descent.

"He worried." A tiny voice squeaked at knee height.

"I know he is. But he can't change the circumstance." Miria looked over to find the little vision, Mayrin, looking at her with her thumb in her mouth.

"Yew can."

"Oh? How do you suggest?" The sight of the girl warmed Miria's bones in a way she could never fully explain. Mayrin wasn't one of her crechelings, come to remind Miria of her shortcomings. She'd chosen to come through the Force to help Miria when she felt lost, though the woman couldn't wrap her head around why.

"What Auntie Irene said." Mayrin toddled a few inches closer. "You think about it lots."

Miria froze, entire body tensing. She'd hoped the Force child didn't know about her last conversation with her aunt, a few says before their ill-fated attempt at stealing Dooku's war chest.

"I told you, Miria. You can't live treating half yourself like a cancer. Accept the darkness in your bones and it'll stop killing you. Reject it, and you'll die a pointless death. I know it's harsh, but it is what it is."

"... I can't do that, Mayrin." Miria finally whispered. "I can't use the Dark Side. What if I fall?"

"Why you think you gonna? You strong!" Mayrin huffed.

"No, I'm not." Miria looked at the memorial again. "I'm not like Aunt Irene. I'm weak… I'll only become a monster, and a danger to everyone I love. Anakin was strong. Crosshair was strong… if they couldn't fight, I'll never make it."

"You being a d'kut." The girl stomped her tiny foot.

"Where did you learn that word in Mando’a?" Miria raised an eyebrow.

"My buir swear a lot." Mayrin giggled, smile creasing the tanned skin at the corners of her eyes and mouth.

Miria honed in on the motion, fixing on that precious smile. Why did it look so familiar…? "...Mayrin. Who is-"

"Who are you talking to?" Echo’s prosthetic dropping on Miria's shoulder from behind nearly scared her out of her skin. She jumped like a startled tooka, bouncing into the wall and back against her favorite cyborg's chest.

"Oh! Echo, you startled me!"

"Sorry. You okay? I heard you talking to yourself…" He frowned.

"Just… thinking out loud. I'm sorry for worrying you." She smiled weakly.

"We're about to touch down. You ready?" He offered her helmet out to her.

"As I'm likely to ever be. Thank you." She took it, putting the plastoid over her head. She'd worry about Mayrin later… right now she had other concerns. Namely, as she stepped out of the ramp, the total desolation of the planet around her.

"This place gives me the creeps." Wrecker grumbled.

Echo held the compass up as it buzzed in his hand, frowning. "How do you even tell… wait, the vibration is stronger going this way."

"South." Miria nodded. "Lead the way, dear."

Echo nodded and started following the buzz against his palm. Behind him, Omega was excitable and glued to Phee's side. Her little droid trudged along at the rear of the pack.

They made it through the destroyed forest relatively quickly, though Miria kept making displeased sounds at the scorched earth. When they reached the foot of a mountain, everyone stopped and stared.

Omega peeped around Phee. "Are we supposed to go around the mountain?"

Phee pulled out her cutlass. "I think we're supposed to go inside it."

"How do you suggest we do that?" Hunter grumbled.

Phee ignored him, stepping up and wedging her blade between two large rocks. They shifted a little, making her dark eyes light up. "Hey, big guy. Help me with this."

Wrecker bounced over and wedged his arms between the stones, pushing them apart with a grunt. Hunter pulled Omega back several steps as the some came loose, falling heavily where she’d been just a moment before. Watched the dust settle from under her helmet before Phee waved them to follow her between the stones. “Follow me!”

“Stay close together.” The Jedi ordered, pausing to look up towards the mountain as she and Hunter started in. “I sense something…”

“Me too.” He muttered darkly. “I don’t like this, Miri.”

“I know.” She sighed. She didn’t either, but this was far from ideal. She had only a few chances to protect them… she couldn’t waste them. It was a matter of their lives or deaths.

Phee put her hands against markings at the entrance, eyes alight. “I can’t believe it… it’s Skara Nal. There could be relics in here from the ancients!”

Wrecker cocked his head to the side behind her. “Ancients? Like the Jedi?” He looked at Miria, who had her hand on the wall curiously.

Phee snorted. “Older than the Jedi, big guy. But if this is Skara Nal, then the treasure is known as the Heart of the Mountain.”

“The Heart of the Mountain…” Miria repeated thoughtfully. Her tired senses were a little fuzzy, but she was trying to stay as alert as possible. Something about this place drew her in, but she couldn’t tell if it was in a good way or bad. “... these walls move, Phee.”

“Yeah. It’s a puzzle, we have to align the symbols.” The other woman grinned.

“I can help.” Tech offered, putting his hands on a jutting beam in the lowest part of the wall. Wrecker could reach higher, and after a moment Miria held her hands up and pushed the top section with the Force at Phee’s direction.

Instead of a new door, a huge rock dropped out of the roof, nearly crushing Wrecker and sealing the entrance.

“Great. Now we’re trapped.” Hunter growled.

“Easy, tough guy. There’s always a way out.” Phee grinned.

Miria stepped back with Echo and Omega to take a better look at the walls. Omega held a hand out. “Echo, can I see the compass?”

“Sure, kid.” He handed it right over. “It quit buzzing when we got inside.”

Omega held it up to her face, looking at everything through the purplish lens. “Miri, it kinda looks like the crystal in your lightsaber.”

“Does it? Interesting.” Miria smiled at her.

“Funny you mention that.” Phee grinned. “The Heart of the Mountain is supposed to be a crystalline structure worth more than you can possibly imagine.”

“I wonder what it will look like-” Miria smiled faintly when Omega squeaked.

“We’re aligning the wrong symbols! Look, there’s hidden markings!”

Phee and Miria exchanged looks and walked over, Omega showing them through the lens how glowing marks appeared on parts of the rotating wall. Phee set her lanturn sideways. “Put the compass over the light.”

When Omega did, the light was scattered over everything in a lovely purple. It revealed the symbols to them all, and they started moving the walls again. Slowly the walls lined up to reveal a doorway. Phee looked at Mel. “Log everything and wait here until I get back.”

The little droid booped in agreement, and the clones plus Jedi followed it’s master into the dark of a tunnel. The walls were covered in smooth stone slabs, and as she passed Miria grazed her numb fingers across them curiously. “I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“My preliminary analysis of the stones indicates these stones predate the Galactic Republic.” Tech looked up from his datapad. “Phee may be onto something here.”

Before Phee could preen at the praise or demand that she deserved more than that, Hunter went stiff and spun on his heel. A low growl caught everyone off guard, and then a huge reptile was dropping out of a hole in the ceiling and latching it’s claws and teeth into Wrecker’s armor.

Every gun in the group went up as it dragged Wrecker around, trying to get a shot in without missing and hitting him. Wrecker was punching hard as he could, and the subtle crack of the reptile’s horn under his fist made Miria’s skin crawl.

Shoot like Cross. Don’t miss. Don’t hurt Wrecker… Miria steeled herself and lined up with her rifle, striking the long tail near the base. It dropped Wrecker and went scrambling into the hole above them it had come out of, dislodging rocks that rained down on them. Hunter shoved Miria and Omega back one way towards Phee, the other three caught on the other side of the cave in.

The rumbling went on too long for comfort as rocks settled around them. Miria took longer than she liked to get to her feet and walked to the new wall of stone. “Tech! Echo! Wrecker!”

“Let me try my comm.” Omega offered. “Echo? Are you okay?”

“We’re fine, but we can’t get through the rock.” The cyborg sighed. “Tech says there’s side tunnels off the main path. We should be able to use them to rendezvous with you.”

Omega looked at Miria, who sighed with relief. “Thank the Force they’re alright.” She put her rifle back on her back and shook her head. “There’s only one direction to go then, my dears. We’ll have to move carefully and hope those tunnels intersect with the path we’re on.”

Hunter sighed. “Alright. Let’s do this.” He lead the way through the caverns, Miria pulling out her saber and igniting it.

“That’s pretty handy.” Phee smiled, holding up her lanturn.

“One of the most elegant weapons in the galaxy and I use it as a glowstick.” Even with her helmet on, she sounded sort of resigned about it.

Omega looked up with her flashlight behind the compass, spotting more glowing symbols on the ceiling. She pointed them out to Phee and Miria just as Hunter started stepping out into the tunnel.

“Hunter wait-” Omega reached out, but his leg was already breaking through the floor and the sergeant was vanishing into the hole. “HUNTER!”

Miria threw one arm out as he disappeared. “Line!”

Phee grabbed Omega to keep her from running out after Hunter, just as a grappling hook came flying up the hole. Miria yanked it to her with the Force, wrapping it around her waist and grabbing the wall as Hunter’s body weight caught and nearly dragged her off her feet. Phee and Omega grabbed her arms and they started dragging Hunter back up one step at a time.

“Are you okay?” Omega hugged Hunter tightly as he got to his feet. “I think we need to find a way to walk across the ceiling.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” He sighed. “What we need is to find a way out of here. We’ve almost died three times.”

Miria held her saber up to examine the wall and ceiling curiously as Phee started to bicker with Hunter, and Omega ran over to join her favorite Jedi.”What you looking for, Miri?”

Miri chewed her lip thoughtfully. “This is going to sound silly. But before the war, I used to like watching holomovies… there were some about pirates and explorers. There’s always hidden trick or lever in the movies in places like this…”

Omega nodded and started looking at the wall too. “Hey, this little groove looks like the compass. Maybe it’ll fit.”

“Clever girl.” Miria held her saber where Omega could see by the light, and pushed the compass into it. “Try turning it, perhaps?”

Omega nodded, wiggling her little fingers into the right spots to spin the disk. The tunnel in front of them flipped around as she did, the ceiling now the floor and forming a bridge.

“That actually worked. How the hell did that work?” Hunter grumbled.

Omega threw a rock across the floor to make sure it was secure enough to walk on. “Miri saw it in a movie!”

Miria shrugged. “They have to get the tropes from somewhere, I suppose.”

“I can’t get the compass back out.” Omega gritted her teeth, pulling at the wall. “It’s stuck.”

“It’s okay.” Phee patted her shoulder. “Skara Nal has reclaimed it. We won’t need it anymore.”

“So we’ve gotta survive this death trap without the only clue we had?” Hunter grumbled.

“That’s what you’ve got me for.” Phee smirked.

Miria patted Hunter’s arm as she made to follow Phee down the tunnel. “This whole mission has been exceptionally strange.”

“Tell me about it.” He sighed and followed her. “What movie even gave you that idea?”

She chuckled faintly. “Raider and Ram’ser. It was about an archaeologist and a Mandalorian marksman. Crosshair watched it with me, one of those nights he and I stayed on the ship when you all went out.”

“Guess it came in handy.” He nodded. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to bring him up.”

“He’s always on my mind, Hunter. It’s alright.” They reached a circular door and stopped as Phee examined it. Hunter stiffened again. “That creature again?”

“No. It’s the guys.” Hunter shook his head just as Tech, Echo, and Wrecker came around a corner with their guns up.

Miria turned her saber off and put it on her hip. “Good to see you, boys.”

Tech smiled. “This has been fascinating, General.” He walked up to the door Phee was checking out. “What kind of puzzle is this?”

“Easy, brown eyes. Sometimes a door is just a door.” She found a tucked in lever and pulled it up with a yank, getting the mechanism to spin and open.

Miria followed Phee inside, curious. “So this is the vault… how interesting. The walls look almost mechanical…”

“It’s no type of machinery that I’m familiar with.” Tech nodded. “If this was really constructed before the Republic, imagine was knowledge could be obtained.”

“I’m more concerned with making sure we all make it out of here alive.” She shrugged. “If there is treasure, it’ll assure all your safety.”

“Well, there it is.” Phee grinned, pointing at a large rectangle of glimmering crystal, inset with carvings and radiating a strange purple from the middle. Miria curiously leaned in as the other woman examined how to take it loose. “The Heart of the Mountain.”

“It’s very beautiful.” Miria frowned. “But there’s something… strange about it. I have a weird feeling about this…”

“Don’t sweat it.” Phee grinned, popping it out of the surrounding stone.

Behind them, the entrances sealed and the walls lit up with strange symbols. Omega took a step back towards Hunter. “What’s happening?”

Outside, a bright bolt of blue-white light shot upwards from the mountain, and it stood up. “It’s not a mountain. It’s a machine!” Miria yelped, sliding across the floor towards what she’d believed were windows. They were actually the thing’s eyes, and when it took a huge step another blast scorched the earth in a long furrow. “That’s why the planet is barren. It’s a war machine.”

Tech was typing rapidly. “We must put the Heart of the Moutain back. Theoretically, it will disable the machine.”

“No way! Do you have any idea how much this thing is worth?!” Phee squawked.

“Is it worth more than your life?” Miria demanded.

Hunter nodded. “If this thing destroys our ship out there, we’re trapped here.”

Phee groaned. “Fine… but you owe me.”

Miria gave her a look that would have cracked stone, but before she could start into a lecture to blister the pirate’s ears, they all heard the screeching noise from their earlier run-in with the big lizard. Miria pulled out her saber. “I’ll cover you, and we’ll call it even. Go!”

The clones converged on the attacking lizard as it broke into the war machine’s head. The tail swiped Miria flat and Phee’s legs from under her, the Heart tumbling into a hole in the floor. Phee went climbing after it, Miria right behind her as she dropped her saber back into her thigh bag. She couldn’t risk burning her companion, as frustrating as the pirate could be.

The machine whirred as it fired off another beam of destruction, both Phee and Miria sliding on the slick footholds. Miria grabbed Phee’s arm before she could tumble to her death, using the Force to pull the crystal Heart to them. “Thanks.” Phee panted, somewhat shaken.

Miria smiled weakly. “You’re very welcome. Now, let’s hurry before this thing destroys my ship.” She interlaced her fingers and boosted Phee up out of the hole with the Heart, crawling out after her. Hunter pulled them both upright, covering them by firing at the reptilian monster that was very determined to try to eat Omega while she bravely stood her ground with her bow. Wrecker was trying to get a grip on its tail.

“Shoot the window!” Wrecker yelled. “Hurry!”

Omega took aim over his shoulder and started slamming shots into the transparisteel as rapidly as possible. It cracked, and Wrecker swung the lizard off the ground and threw it. It crashed out and hurtled to the ground below

Tech was trying to interface with the war machine to turn it away from the direction of the Marauder. “We need to shut this down immediately!”

Hunter took the Heart from Phee and hurled it to Echo and Tech, who quickly plugged it into the stone it had come from. The purple light inside it flared viciously bright, and the crystal melted. Miria grabbed Echo and Tech by the back of their belts to pull them away, just in case it exploded.

The lights all around them turned off, the half-charged beam that had left the planet scorched to oblivion puttering out. “Is it over?” Wrecker looked up.

The ground under their feet tilted. “Grab onto something!” Hunter ordered, wrapping an arm around a jutting chunk of wall. Wrecker grabbed Omega. Echo and Tech grabbed each other. Miria went sliding, managing to catch Phee’s boot when Wrecker caught the tumbling pirate.

“Brace for impact!” Miria yelled, holding on for dear life as the war machine tumbled to the ground and took out half a hillside with just its head on the landing. When the dust settled, her head was the first one to lift. “Sound off…”

“Not dead.” Wrecker groaned.

“I’m okay.” Echo sat up. “Tech too.”

“Me and Omega are fine.” Hunter sat up, the little girl waving at him eagerly.

“Phee?” Miria looked around.

“I’m in one piece.” The treasure hunter grinned.

Miria’s head dropped right back into the dust. “Good.”

“You okay, Miri?” Wrecker scooted over to her.

“I’m very dizzy…” She mumbled. “And tired.”

Hunter nodded. “Let’s get out of here.”

Tech and Echo propped Miria up between them, rather than let Wrecker carry her like a flour sack over his shoulder. “It would seem our track record for treasure hunting is 0 for 2, even with a professional.” The bespectacled genius gave Phee a meaningful look.

“Hey, we proved it was real though. Even if it melted.” Omega giggled.

“At least no one can ever use that weapon again.” Hunter took his helmet off, shaking out his hair as the Havoc Marauder came into sight.

“So you’re saying it’s a good thing we came.” Phee smirked.

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it.” Miria sighed. “Though, I am sorry about Mel. He was a friendly little thing.”

“It’s okay. I keep his memory data backed up on my ship, I’ll have him back before we get to Vadnay.”

“What’s on Vadnay?” Omega peeped.

“I’ve got a lead on an ancient chalice-” Phee launched into a story as they loaded up on the ship and took off.

Echo put Miria in her bunk and she gave him a grateful nod. “How are you doing, Miri? Really. Tech said you lost a lot of blood and you still went on his harebrained adventure.”

Miria gave a wry snort, pulling her blanket over her legs. “I suspect we’re not cut out to be treasure hunters… I guess my inheritance will have to be enough, because we’re not doing very well at finding outside finances.”

“Your what?” Hunter’s head popped into the bunkroom like he was on a swivel.

Miria made a face. “Inheritance. I’ve arranged all that I would have inherited from my parents to be given to you all at the event of my death. If we don’t find a way to build a home for you all before I die, then you’ll have the means to do so afterward.” She leaned back in her pillow, looking at the underside of the bunk above her. “Don’t look so upset, Hunter. It’s not like it makes the death come any faster.”

“It feels a lot like giving up, Miri.” Her sergeant sat down next to her.

"Death is a part of life. A Jedi doesn't fear it." She sighed. "... my, that sounds trite. And I'm not much of a Jedi anymore, am I?"

"Are you scared?" Echo frowned.

"I'm terrified." She admitted. "I don't want to leave you. I don't want to never see him again…" She closed her eyes, recalling the angular face of a golden-eyed sniper. She was afraid, not of him but for him. "Fear leads to anger. Anger to hate. Hate to suffering. I know it, but I feel like I can't escape the cycle… and I'm so tired. I've been fighting for so long, and I'm not sure what I'm fighting for any longer."

Echo squeezed her arm. "You're fighting for you, Miri."

"If I answer that, I'll hurt you." She whispered.

"Try me." The corporal urged. Hunter nodded, and even with her eyes shut she felt the motion.

"I don't love myself enough to fight for her." Miria sighed. "Master Plo once told me that you have to love yourself first, to love others."

"He was wise." Hunter murmured.

"He was wrong. I've never loved myself. But Crosshair… I loved him so much I forgot what hating myself felt like." Her lavender eyes opened again. "I can't do this on my own, boys. I don't know how. There's so much about me I can't accept…" Irene wanted her to love her flaws, her darkness, because loving it could be the key to salvation. Miria just couldn't figure out how she was supposed to love her failings. "Force, I'm so tired…"

"Try to rest." Hunter beckoned Echo to follow him out, obvious fear bleeding into the Force around him. He was so worried about her. She hated to worry him.

"I'll try." Miria assured him, and the footsteps disappeared out of the room before she could turn her head to watch them go.

The room fell to silence, only the faint hum of the air recyclers and engine sounding over her stuttering heartbeat.

"If you can't fight for you, fight for somebody else." Whispered a tiny voice by her knee.

"Mayrin." The name passed her lips like a prayer, like the way she used to say Crosshair’s name. Like the way he used to say hers.

The toddler was standing by the bed, little hands on the mattress. "Dat me."

Miria's broken heart warmed at the sight of her. “Did you learn that from your father too? You said he swears a lot.”

“Yeah. But he good. He loves me and my Mama. Even if she say he’s very sassy.”

“What’s your mother like, little one?” Miria asked softly.

“She hold me and sing to me every night.” Mayrin said solemnly. “Sometimes Buir falls asleep when she sings, and she snuggles up and we all sleep in my bed."

"That sounds lovely." Miria's smile felt unfamiliar now, but it was welcome back to her lips. "They must love each other very much."

"Uh huh." Mayrin nodded, her wispy pigtails bouncing. "That why I'm here. The love."

Miria bit her lip, looking at the child for a long moment. "To bring your father to your mother?"

"Yeah. Buir lost right now. Mama lost too, but different kind of lost."

"I'm sure you'll succeed." Tears stung her eyes as she looked at that precious face. "He's your father, isn't he? Crosshair."

Mayrin's grin showed again, and there was no denying that smile. That was Crosshair’s smile. This was his daughter, come through time and the Force to give Miria a glimpse of the future. A future without her, perhaps, but a hopeful one. Crosshair would be loved again, given the child he'd said he wanted who had all the sweetness he deserved… He'd find his way home.

"Who's your mother, sweetheart?" Miria breathed. She wasn't even jealous anymore, just tiredly delighted that somehow it would turn out okay for the love of her life.

"You know." Mayrin's expression turned stubborn. "Say it."

Miria blinked. "But I-"

"You know."

A sharp breath pulled Miria's world upside down. Mayrin's lavender eyes were staring holes into her. Lavender eyes. Eyes she'd seen looking back into her own from Argais and Annalise's faces. Draper eyes. Her eyes.

"It's me..." She whispered, voice trembling.

Mayrin giggled again, nodding vigorously. "Yes, Mama."

#explict #eventual smut #orginal character #crosshair #chronic illness #clone force 99 #the bad batch #caught in the crosshairs

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yukioos · 1 month

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hiiii ♥️♥️♥️

I have a request for wade Wilson ♥️🖤♥️🖤♥️🖤

So I was thinking like a friends to lovers kinda thing where they're doing a sleepover and a pillow fight happens and then they just end up confessing their feelings? This sounds so silly my bad.

Thank u in advance. 🤍🤍🤍

espresso — wade wilson x reader

warnings: confessions, reader overthinks and worries wade might not regenerate, wade calls reader ‘pookie bear,’ not proofread

summary: reader and wade have a sleepover and have a pillow fight. they end up confessing to one another.

authors note: from the start will probably come out on monday-wednesday! i haven’t been able to watch the x-men movies in a while so the logan oneshots might not be as accurate until i watch them again. this request isn’t silly btw, i think it’s so cute and im glad you requested it! you have amazing manners and thank you! enjoy 🎀

word count: 1.4k

next door to wade’s apartment, you and wade lay on your bed in your apartment. mean girls begins to play on the large screen in front of you. you hear soft sounds from it, the scene where cady gets invited to karen, regina and gretchen’s table plays. wade makes comments as the movie plays.

he suddenly asks, “do you have face masks? the cool clay green ones that make your face smooth? i mean, it probably won’t work on me but maybe it’ll look cool.” animating his words, rubbing his face.

“yeah, i do! i have the container in my bathroom. i’ll go get it, hang on!” you exclaim.

you pat his thigh as a quick goodbye, knowing you’ll be back. you swing your legs over your bed and hop off, walking a few steps to your bathroom. you place your hand on the handle, open the door, and grab a green container.

you look around the counter for a spatula to spread the clay with. eventually, after opening a drawer, you find it and pick it up. with both items in your hand, you head back over to wade, whose attention is on the large screen in front of him.

he turns his head in your direction when he hears your footsteps, “ooh! is that the clay mask thing? looks yummy. oh, did i tell you about the calamari i had yesterday?” he pauses.

he told you about the calamari as soon as he ate it and sent you photos and texts as he was in that restaurant.

but you lie, enjoying hearing him speak, “no, but how about i put the mask on you while you tell me?”

he nods and begins to rant, you pick up the container and turn the lid. scooping up some of the clay with the spatula, and gently holding his face in your palm. his eyes are focused on yours as he continues to talk.

you spread the clay on his forehead, scooping up more when there’s no more on the spatula. you nod at his words, he switches subjects every couple of minutes. once the green mask covers most of his face and looks pretty, you put the spatula down and start spreading the paste on your face.

you look at yourself in a hand mirror, listening to wade talk about negasonic teenage warhead and her girlfriend.

“you know, yukio is so sweet and has that pink hair, the total opposite of her girlfriend! she always says her hello’s and goodbye’s to me whenever we see each other or leave!”

you agree, “yeah, she’s a real sweetheart. her hair’s adorable, real talented girl.” both of you admire her.

you talk about multiple things in ten minutes, switching subjects constantly. you then tap wade’s shoulder to warn him it’s time to wash the paste off. you gently grab his arm and tug, leading him to the bathroom.

“move your head near the sink and wash your face with the water,” you instruct, looking up at him.

he nods, you turn the water on and make it a lukewarm temperature before smiling at him. he lowers his head down and runs his hands under the stream, rubbing his face. he brings his head back up after a minute, and you see green spots on his face.

he keeps his eyes squeezed shut and asks, “can i have a washcloth? i don’t want my eyes to hurt.”

you state, “yeah, give me a minute. you have some paste on your face.”

you bring your hand up to his face, wiping spots of paste with your thumb. although his face is scarred, he’s the most handsome person in your eyes. you then grab a washcloth from a hanger and gently press it on his face, careful to not irritate his skin.

“does that feel fine?” you ask, feeling him nod against your hand.

you place the washcloth in his hand and lean down to place your face under the water. you gently rub your face to get rid of the paste, feeling wade’s presence behind you. once you bring up your head after washing thoroughly, a washcloth is placed in your hands.

“the material of that washcloth was so soft! oh, one time when i was on a mission, i was at a hotel and i wore those super soft robes. oh, the material made me want to bust all over the—” you continue to listen to him talk, he pauses every couple of minutes to switch topics.

you nod at the words he says, asking questions in between to keep him entertained. after you dry your face with the washcloth, you place them on the counter and walk back to your bed with wade.

the two of you lay on your bed together and continue to watch mean girls, you lay your legs on his.

as you are distracted, you suddenly feel a soft pillow hit your chest. you groan and hold your chest, look to wade, and see a smile on his face. you grab the pillow behind you and hit his chest hard, causing him to wheeze.

he grabs one of the pillows and immediately starts softly hitting you, enough to notice the impact but not enough to feel pain. giggles fill the room as you continue hitting each other and failing to dodge the hits.

being wade’s best friend is always fun, you get to hear about his missions and be apart of them once in a while. you’re the first person he comes to when something happens in his life or he gets exciting news, and vice versa.

but you want more. there’s nothing you want more than to be in a relationship with him, although he’s a busy man. you don’t know if he’d take it seriously if you told him you like him, you blush every time you talk to him.

the thought that he wouldn’t regenerate his health one day has haunted you for years. you always hug him and say sweet words before he goes on a mission. it always seems like his life meant nothing to him because he’d always regenerate.

“you okay? did i hit you too hard? i’m too good, aren’t i?” he asks, teasing you, “but really, you kinda zoned out. are you okay?” his eyes are filled with concern.

you look down in hesitation before you blurt out, “i like you.” you pause, “i’m sorry that now might not be a good time but i really wanna cherish everything we have because you’re a really good person. i just worry every time you go on a mission because i don’t know if you’re coming back. you always act like it’s nothing to you but i get worried your healing thing won’t work when you need it to.”

you keep your eyes focused on the pillow on your lap, wade sits across from you and replies, “i like you too. not like, i mean i do like you but i mean, you know what i mean.”

you sheepishly smile and you feel warm, “really?”

he smiles at you and nods, “i’ve liked you for years! i never told you because you complained about one of your guy best friends telling you he likes you, and, well, that happened a lot. i mean i understand why they like you but since you didn’t like them liking you, i thought you wouldn’t like me liking you. you’re the only person who matches my freak.”

you stare at him and smile, “so we can figure out what we’re gonna be later?”

he nods and agrees, “yeah, but can we continue watching the movie?”

you nod and both of you place the pillows down behind you. you curl up next to wade, who lovingly places a hand on your back for safety and stability. you feel a soft blanket being draped on your and his body.

“night, wade,” you state, closing your eyes.

“night, pookie bear,” he replies, making you chuckle.

you fall asleep in his warm arms, feeling protected and loved.

#yukioos #deadpool and wolverine #marvel x reader #mcu x reader #deadpool #deadpool x reader #ryan reynolds #ryan reynolds x reader #wade wilson #wade wilson x reader #x reader

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worldismyne · 2 years

Text

I Do (Chapter 2)

Summary: Finn’s mother is fed up with Harv’s family being seemingly immune to her attempts to curse their family. So, if magic alone can’t make them miserable, maybe her son can stir up enough chaos to ruin their happily ever after?

Anything to stop that peasant’s stupid wedding.

(AU Fic: Finn is 18, Harv is 19)

Pairing: Harv x Finn

Rating: M (Suggestive)

Series: Warrior U

Ao3 Link

Harv made it home just as his mother had finished clearing the dishes from dinner. She greeted him with a warm smile but dropped everything the moment she saw him covered in soot and short one jacket.

"Goodness what happened?" She threw a kettle on and grabbed him a chair in the blink of an eye. "I know those parties could get out of hand, but-"

"It wasn't that. Just a fire." At the mention of destruction, he suddenly found himself surrounded by his brothers and father.

"How big was it?" Puck hopped up onto the table, only to be scooped up by his mother and set back on the floor. A whole captive audience, with the exception of Rhodri, who loitered in the doorway 'too cool' to show any interest. How could Harv let them down?

"Massive, taller than the clock tower." He tried to keep the tone light, smiling at his youngest siblings oohing at the prospect.

"The Hart Inn is not taller than the clock tower." Rhodri rolled his eyes.

"Hush Rhodri, your brother's telling the story." His mother chided. "You can tell your's next."

"Whatever." Rhodri leaned further into the doorframe but otherwise remained silent. Harv recaptured the little ones attention with theatric zeal.

"The whole inn was a burning inferno. Smoke climbed up the sky and people were bailing water as fast as the could, whole bathtubs full!" He continued embellishing details and carefully abridged the inn keeper's account. The last thing he needed was his father to rant about how modern technologies would spoil the masses and turn them wicked. When he got to the part where he found the victim still inside, he struggled to keep up the momentum. How could he explain what happened without earning too many questions? "I carried them out of the fire, just before the building came down. Boom!" Best to avoid it all together.

"You carried someone all by yourself?" Big asked in awe.

"Of course he did, your brother's strong." Roland caught Harv in a playful headlock and gave him a noogie. "Not as strong as me though!" Before the scuffle could get to rambunctious Clover clapped her hands and instructed the boys to wash up for bed. "That reminds me." Roland released Harv gesturing for him to follow. "Your mother and I had something we wanted to give you." Clover followed behind giddy with excitement as they lead Harv out into the yard and around the back. Next to the smithy was a small 500 square foot building. "Tada!"

"It's not much," Clover squeezed his shoulders, "but we thought, maybe, you two would appreciate having your own space." So that's why they were so insistent he go to town today. They must have spent all day and night getting this together to surprise him.

"Mom, this is too much." He didn't know what to say. "Really, you guys didn't have to, this must have cost a fortune. I couldn't-"

"If he doesn't want it, can I have it?" Rhodri shouted across the yard from the back door.

"Rhodri, we talked about this. Now hurry up, and get to bed." Clover folded her arms and gave him that look all mothers have when trying to beat their child in a battle of wills.

"It's not fair!" Rhodri slammed the door shut.

"...He's running out the front door." Harv sighed. His father rolled up his sleeves and dashed across the lawn.

"That boy, I swear." Clover shook her head. In the distance they could hear Roland wrestle Rhodri away from the cart. "If he applied even half this energy on an apprenticeship or the farm..."

"He'll figure it out. It's Puck I'm worried about." Harv half laughed. "He's going to be worse." His mother looked exhausted by the realization.

"Don't say that." She laughed a little, knowing he was probably right. There was the telltale click of the door, his family would all be in for the night. "Well, why don't you take a peak? It should have everything you need for the night. If there's any issues, let us know, we'll get it fixed right away." He gave her a big hug.

"Thanks mom. Really." She kissed his forehead and went to go inside the main house. After a long night, it'd be nice to be alone for a bit.

The inside was warm and quaint. The wattled walls had been plastered, but not decorated, there was a small hearth to keep the place warm during the following winter. Other than that, there was minimal amenities, but to Harv the sleeping quarters felt like a luxury. He'd never had his own space before, let alone his own bed. There would be time to build his own furniture for the place, but in the meantime, the straw stuffed mattress and handmade quilt were more than enough.

"Hi Harvey!" Only, there was someone already in it.

"You! How did you- Is that my night shirt?" Harv stammered at his surprise blond guest sitting under the covers with a mischievous grin. Those were definitely his night clothes, the sleeves pooling around his hands and the collar threatening to slip off one of his pale shoulders. "What are you doing here?"

"I had to bring back your coat," the blond shrugged, "and this was the only thing to wear." Harv stared dumbly at the folded brown jacket at the end of the bed.

"Of course you did." Harv agreed helplessly. "You could have brought it back in the morning." He tried to rub the frustration and confusion away from his eyes.

"But I wanted to see you now." They were so earnest in their attempts to gain his attention, going so far as to pat down the blankets to encourage him to sit. "Come here Harvey." A playful lit to their voice and an enamored smile, even though they might as well be strangers; it was the kind of things that only happened in sagas and sonnets. "I can't hold you if you're standing over there."

"I know what this is." Harv snapped his fingers in rapid succession as if it would help turn his thoughts into words quicker. That failing, he paced a little back and forth.

"You do?" The blond leaned forward cupping their hands, curious and eager. There was some anxious anticipation in the stiffness of their shoulders and that unwavering gaze.

"Damsel Disorder!" Harv pointed at the blond as they sat up straight, an eyebrow raised. It did little to temper Harv's excitement at finding an explanation. "Yeah, Trevor was talking about it the other day. I saved you, so now you're in love with me." A huge smile spread across their face and they laughed.

"I'm in love with you?"

"Yes!" Harv stopped himself. "No. You just think you are, but you're not. It's only temporary."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Well for starters, I don't even know your name."

"It's Finn." Finn sat back against the pillows and watched Harv take a few steps forward to maintain their distance.

"And it takes more than meeting in a romantic way to fall in love."

"I knew it was romantic!" Finn preened. "Mother thought the whole thing was ridiculous, but I know how these things work. It'll just take a little longer than I thought." Harv caved and sat on the bed, Finn looking at him with renewed hope. They were so close to reaching some semblance of understanding. Now that no one was watching, maybe, just maybe he could convince Finn to let this go.

"Finn, real love takes time to grow, sometimes years; it's not going to happen overnight. You should go home to your own family," Harv lifted the collar back onto Finn's shoulder, "and wear your own clothes." Despite Harv trying to let Finn down gently, all joy left their eyes. Finn caught Harv's hand before he could pull away.

"I'd rather stay here with you." Gone was the playfulness, his voice soft and his gaze averted to their entwined hands.

"You really would..." Harv wasn't sure what else to do. Finn pulled his hand closer; the back of his knuckles grazed the exposed part of Finn's chest.

"Your hand is so cold." Finn fidgeted, unsure where to guide it next.

"So are yours." Was there some deeper reason Finn was clinging to this delusion? It was hard to tell, with Finn so quick to slip back into a mask of playfulness. There was something earnest in the way he'd lean close, desperate to soak up any scrap of attention Harv was willing to spare. It was tempting to cave and offer a shoulder for Finn to rest his head against; but Harv feared the depths of Finn's hunger for affection. "I'd like to believe I'm a pretty good judge of character, and I don't think you're a bad person." Finn's entire body went ridged.

"...you don't?" Finn's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Of course not. Everyone wishes there is an easy solution to their problems..." Harv gently freed his hand and stood up again. Perhaps a starting a fire would help them both cling to a different kind of warmth. "But these fantastical daydreams won't really protect you in the long run, it'll just make things harder." He could feel Finn watch him strike up the flint. The heavy silence only broken with small clicks and crackles of a flame coming to life in the hearth.

"...am I just not pretty enough?" Finn's bluntness nearly caused Harv to hit his head on the fireplace as he stood up. "Or is it because I'm a man, perhaps? If that's the case, many people have accused me of being an invert of sorts, though no one seems to agree on what that means. I'm sure there's something in my wardrobe that would be to your liking, if you would just tell me what you prefer." Finn was still acting as if the missing piece to the puzzle was about whether Harv found him appealing, which lord knows he's tried every way he can to avoid answering that question in particular. Harv turned around, a strange panic threatening to take hold and he went to the foot of the bed, ready to take Finn by the wrist.

Bang!

Something hard rammed against his shin and instead of grabbing anything Harv curled inward and buried his head into the mattress. Finn hissed, almost sympathetic as he leaned forward to see what caught Harv's leg.

"A bassinet? And I thought my mother was overly involved, you have my condolences." He crawled over to where Harv was laying, curled on his side, and laid down so the two were looking at each other eye to eye. "There, see? Is looking at me really that bad?" Finn pushed a few stray dreadlocks away from his face. True to his word, Harv had a hard time looking away. "I don't care about the opinions of others or if infatuation is fleeting; I'm asking you what I could do to make you want me more."

"I could want to put the moon in my pocket; it's still impossible." His shin didn't hurt as much, but it was still a nice excuse to keep laying here. "I'd rather you alive and out of reach then suffering. That's how these things always end." Finn scowled a bit. "Like Daughter of Air, or Camelot; there's somethings in life best left alone." Finn's brow furrowed further and bit his lip.

"That wasn't the point of those stories." Harv was about to speak, but Finn cut him off. "I spent four years memorizing legends and studying storytelling. I assure you, the suffering comes from the hero refusing to make a choice, not making the 'wrong' one or wanting the 'wrong' thing. Though I'm impressed you know of Daughters of Air; I thought you warrior types were too busy playing with weapons to learn anything else." It was refreshing, not immediately facing backlash for mentioning fairytales. Harv felt a weight lift off his chest he hadn't known was there. Somehow, the conversation completely derailed into comparing their mental libraries.

-v-

The hearth had long died out, and little birds had started to sing in anticipation for the rising sun. Finn had tried his best to subtly urge Harv to do, well, anything. However, the warrior seemed to be in a constant state of discomfort regardless of what Finn said or did. Harv wasn't telling him no, but he wasn't pursuing him either.

That was a problem.

With Darren all it took was a few risqué letters from a 'secret admirer' to act like a fool, but this was proving to be, well, challenging. He could sooth his bruised ego by coaching Harv to focus on him, but that wasn't enough to banish the thought that maybe, just maybe, he was a little out of his depths on this one. Of course, he couldn't admit that, it would be the same as admitting he'd been bested by some virtuous little farm boy. For goodness sakes, he didn't even register Finn as a threat.

That was kind of nice actually.

And as Harv's defenses lowered there were a few things that seemed to ease his anxieties, like 'accidentally' ghosting his lips over the back of his knuckles or lazily threading their fingers together; just so long as he didn't get too close to his face or heart. A level of intimacy that felt like a promissory note of sorts. For a moment, Finn was sure Harv was at least smitten with him. He could do a lot with smitten. Even if he had yet to bury his face in the warrior's chest.

But one of the consequences of losing track of time and talking through the night, is that the world outside always had a way of forcing itself back in again. There was a knock at the door and Harv immediately jumped to his feet in a panic. A little reactionary Finn thought, since nothing really happened.

"J-just a moment." Harv turned and gave Finn a pleading look. There was nowhere to hide, and Finn didn't want to in the first place, so he did nothing. Harv startled when the door started to open.

"What's taking so long?" Rhodri asked. Harv tried to keep him from opening the door, but Rhodri was able to peek inside. "Who's that!?"

"Hello!" Finn waved.

"Rhodri, please." Harv opened the door and slipped out, leaving Finn alone in the room. He rushed up to the other side of the door and leaned close, hopeful he'd catch the conversation through the wood grain. "-it's not what it looks like. He just didn't have anywhere to go." So, he was just being nice. A good host too nervous to admit he felt put upon.

So why did it feel like he lost somehow? After all, it doesn't matter what happened, what mattered was what it looked like. Rumors like this could do wonders at ruining a man's reputation, provided it spread. It would probably be faster to instigate speculation than waste time around here, but it wasn't as effective as a real affair of the heart. He needed Harv to be just as invested in him to sell the lie.

"Fine, I won't tell anyone." Rhodri sighed. "But what do you want me to tell Audrey?"

"Nothing," Harv at least sounded nervous, "she doesn't need to know about this. It's nothing." Finn was not nothing. He waffled before gently pushing open the door.

"She's gonna want to know why you're puddling around out here and not in the kitchen though."

"She's here!?" Harv looked pale as the dead. A grown man who runs into fires unprompted should not be this afraid of some girl. "What is she doing here?"

"Helping mom with the wedding cake. It's tomorrow." Rhodri looked over at Finn with as if figuring out a puzzle. The realization caused his brows to rise to his hairline. "Oh."

"No, not 'oh'." Harv looked over to see Finn patiently waiting for them then back to his brother. "There's nothing to 'oh' about." Rhodri turned back to him, clearly ready with at least three examples of why there was something to discuss, but his brother could stopped him. "Tell Audrey I'll be in in a few minutes, and uh, see if anything of yours will fit Finn. I can't send him home like this." Rhodri rolled his eyes and went back to the main house.

"You don't have to send me back, I could wait here. Though I wouldn't mind a bite to eat." Finn suggested when he saw how fatigued Harv looked. Finn tried to lean up against Harv's back, but was rebuffed. Instead, he found both of his hands in Harv's, forced to face his guilt riddled features. "What's the matter?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to mislead you. I shouldn't have-" Harv couldn't look at him as he spoke. "You should go, before anyone else sees you. People can be unkind when they don't know the whole story. You've been through enough the last few days as it is." He let go of Finn's hands and walked back toward the house downtrodden.

-v-

By the time Finn returned home, he was absolutely beside himself. It didn't matter how nicely Harv had tried to phrase it, he'd been rejected. And turned away without any means of contact. Just a sorry excuse for a change of clothes and a 'don't come back'.

He entered the living room sulking, and barely acknowledged his mother before running upstairs to change his rags out for proper clothes. The problem was, he didn't know what exactly the warrior would find more alluring. He had at least four different tunics laid out on the bed before his mother entered the room.

"Everyone's talking about the fire." His mother said, trying to be encouraging. "Some people think you made the little peasant girl quite jealous." Finn threw another couple outfits on the ground.

"That's very kind of them, but she didn't even look at me." Finn huffed. He held up his two best options, but they were too nice to get around goat hair and mud. "He barely wanted to either. I thought that disguise spell was supposed to make me look like the most beautiful person in the world to him, all it did was cover my scar." He took out his frustration on his wardrobe.

"Did he not take the love potion?"

"No..." Finn stilled. "I didn't think I'd need one." Truthfully the thought of using one made him a little sick to his stomach. 'Love' potion was just a cutesy rebranding of an aphrodisiac. People weren't the most predictable when it was in their system and once it cleared it often left resentment in its wake. "I don't want this to be excused as some mistake or temporary insanity; I want his heart in my hand!"

"I love the enthusiasm darling, but I don't think we have time for something of that nature." Finn could feel his mother watch him with concern as he pulled out a lavender riding outfit. He'd never be caught dead near a horse, but it wouldn't get ruined if it got dirty. Maybe if he paired it with a nice scarf it could pass for semi fashionable.

"I know, that sheep girl has him at her beck and call, you should have seen the way he fell all over himself at the thought of upsetting her." He was ten times prettier than she was, and nicer to him; it didn't make any sense. His loyalty was sorely misplaced, he just had to get him to see what Finn could offer. "He's never going call off the wedding at this rate."

"I suppose she could always have a little accident." His mother suggested with a hum.

"No mother," she crossed her arms when he spoke, "you promised I could do this myself." Besides, if she died, then Finn would become a consolation prize. He needed Harv to chose him over her, not by default, it was a matter of pride. "That's it!" If Harv wouldn't call off the wedding, maybe his little fiancé would once she realized Finn was more important than her. She'd have to see it with her own eyes too, none of this vague nonsense through the grapevine. Forget practicality, he needed spectacle. "Would you be able to summon up something from the palace? Sweet meats and bread; and wine, something classy. That'll show that little-" Mother was looking at him oddly. "What?"

"Dear, don't you think you're taking this a little personally?" She asked, carefully examining her nails before glancing at him. "They're just peasants after all."

"It's not about class, it's about the principal and-" Wait a second. Did she just parrot the exact same thing he said to her yesterday? "That's not funny." Leenan's sucked in her lips trying not to laugh. "This isn't the same thing! I have a reputation to uphold, if I let one little peon get the best of me then-" She was cackling at him now. "Fine, I'm sorry, okay. Are you going to help me or not?"

"Of course I'll help you sweetie, I'm just glad you're seeing things my way." She continued to stifle a snicker as exited the room and descended down the stairs.

It wasn't the same, he knew that deep down, he just couldn't think too long on the reason why. It was embarrassing to say the least. Harv's rejection hadn't hurt his pride, not deeply anyway, he was more baffled than insulted. The mixed messages he'd received weren't helping either. And he definitely wasn't threatened by the presense of that stupid little farm girl. She was foul tempered, unpleasant to be around and somehow had more people invested in her happiness then he did. She got to have a fiancé who'd dote on her regardless of how little she tried or how unsocialable she was while he was standing alone in his room.

Granted, he barely knew her.

But he was, maybe, just a tiny bit... jealous.

#warrior u #harvfinn #little finnharv things #fanfic #WU fanfic archive

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wincore · 3 years

Text

field day | jung sungchan

pairing: sungchan x fem!reader

synopsis: when you, as cheer captain, are best friends with the pride and joy of the soccer team, rumors are bound to fly around.

genre: high school au, soccer au, bff2l, fluff

words: 7.5k

warnings: language, jung “the risk i took was calculated but man am i bad at math” sungchan

request: sungchan + ball + “ everyone is looking at us. is that a good or a bad thing? ” (from the first option) ^__^

song recs: after school - weeekly / pleaser - wallows / some - bol4 / sweet talk - saint motel / love so sweet - cherry bullet

a/n: i tried recalling some hs memories for this and im hoping i wasnt the only one that went through the “shipped with a random dude” ordeal LOL. i haven’t written shorter fics in a while so i’m glad i got to. tq for requesting, lovepie <33

In high school, peer pressure tends to come in different forms. For you, it’s taken the shape of this.

“Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!”

You look around your classmates, scanning each and every face chanting with glee like you’re a star player scoring the winning point. The tall figure shifts beside you, glancing at you like a blinking idiot. You’re not even on the losing team but it feels just as frustrating.

You glare at the boy beside you. The trouble is Jung Sungchan. The trouble has always been Jung Sungchan.

“Come on!” Chenle calls with a teasing grin from the buzzing crowd. The little shit. It’s getting hotter with each minute you spend by the green soccer field and its dusty chalked lines, just at the tip of the bleachers. You didn’t even get enough time to breathe before you were surrounded, the soccer team pushing a stumbling Sungchan onto you. It’s too sunny for this today.

“The star soccer player gets a kiss from the lead cheerleader after a winning game! That’s the rule.” Chenle announces.

Sungchan looks at you and you turn to him, the both of you looking at each other like fish out of water. Even though you’ve clarified at least a hundred times that you’re just friends, your peers don’t seem to be satisfied. (“Famous last words,” they say.)

“No,” you say, firmly.

“No,” Sungchan agrees, nodding his head wisely.

“Don’t copy me,” you say, smacking his chest, and a quiet ‘oof’ escapes his mouth.

The fact that you’ve been best friends since Sungchan offered you a light green crayon in elementary school just fuels the idea that you have to date. There’s this difference between elementary school kids teasing and high school kids teasing—it was so much easier back when boys were afraid of cooties from girls. It was innocent too. Now, it’s more of nudges and sly grins, teasing with unnecessary innuendo. (What else do you expect from teenagers experiencing puberty?) It doesn’t stop you from being best friends though. Sungchan still visits on Fridays to get on your mom’s nerves and help you with homework (or try to). You still have all the little trinkets he’s gifted you over the years and the lock to his phone is still your birthday. You’re best friends and strictly that.

When you got into the same middle school though is when it started going downhill. Holding his hand was awkward, touching him in any way was awkward and god forbid you compliment him on something. The kids around you would run across the halls saying “(name) likes Sungchan!” or the other way around sometimes. Heathens, the lot of them. But at the very least, he wasn’t too fazed and you wonder how he could be that even-tempered. If it was just you feeling that way, then maybe you did like him more than he did you.

You shake it off.

Sungchan’s much more grown now and at least a foot taller since his awkward adolescent years; he looks handsomer too but you wouldn’t be caught dead saying it out loud. After all, it’s only going to spark another debate on the anonymous school forum. (“(name) finds Jung Sungchan attractive, they’re totally dating.” “I knew it. A boy and a girl can’t be friends, especially if they’re both good looking.”) If you’re being honest, you hate the rumours so much—it’s one of the reasons, apart from puberty, stopping you from being as close as before. However, you do understand that this is how the passage of time works. You’re not going to be spending all of your time with each other, yes, but you still regard him as important. Your life is too busy now, with exams and practice—and you’d think a busy bee would get some honey as reward.

Sungchan’s curls stick to his forehead, unruly after he wiped at them with a towel. The sunlight plays with his eyes when he looks at you intently and you shrug. The smell of sweat is starting to make you nauseous. You remember that you too need to take a shower.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you mumble.

“Not today?” He asks.

You shake your head. “The girls have a plan.”

It’s not just the sweat. Or the crowds. You don’t like being here at all. There’s one more problem with this place.

You hate soccer.

And by hate, you mean you despise it. Like you’ll throw up at the sight of it. What’s so riveting about a bunch of smelly, sweaty guys excited about chasing a patterned ball? You’ve tried to understand it but every time your dad explains the rules, you find yourself zoning out of whatever alien language he speaks.

Sungchan has been the closest to getting you to understand the game and even then, you refused to learn. It’s not like you’re society’s definition of girly—but you’re not a tomboy either. The school has granted you the “ice queen with a warm interior” stereotype so you’ll just go with that. To be honest, you’re just a little more awkward at open affection than your friends. (And Sungchan has the “friendly beagle” stereotype which you’ll agree is partly true. He’s more of a retriever though, with that size.) It’s just funny how you can never seem to know who you are but other people see so clearly.

You hurry up to the locker rooms and hope for a better evening than this afternoon.

The sky burns blue and you wipe the sweat off your brow once you step out of the changing room. Cooling off from your shower has gone to waste. Adjusting your school skirt, you take your usual strides to the school gates.

Ryujin seems to be showing Yuna a very flamboyant dance move while the latter hypes her up. Ryujin is in her gym uniform because she has no care for her reputation apparently, but she makes it work. Yuna’s about to show her own move when she notices you and waves at you vigorously enough to make you jog towards her and stop embarrassing herself in front of the after school crowd. But then again, she’s too cute for that.

“We got bored waiting for you,” Yuna explains, voice hoarse from her cold. Poor thing wasn’t let into performing because of it. “Do you wanna see our cool new move? Ryujin came up with it!”

Ryujin rolls her eyes. “You’re trying to advertise me to (name) so she can recruit me into cheerleading, aren’t you?”

You smile and cross your arms, facing Yuna who’s been caught mid-act. She smiles sheepishly and pats your shoulder like she just said a funny joke.

“Actually…” You begin and Ryujin holds up her arms in a cross.

“No. Never. I’m already part of the hip-hop dance club.”

“I was going to say that I’ll join you instead.”

Yuna gasps in betrayal, big eyes widening, and Ryujin grins before sticking her tongue out and potentially ruining her image with that expression. She doesn’t care, however.

“Anyway, I can’t wait to get to college and join a dance club.” Ryujin looks at the two of you excitedly. “I keep getting snaps from Yeji and feel so jealous.”

Yuna pouts. “Don’t be so happy about leaving me.”

“Aw, is the baby afraid of not getting any more sisterly doting?” Ryujin teases and you laugh at the disgruntled expression on Yuna’s face.

“Don’t worry,” Ryujin continues with a sly grin. “Taehyun’s here to keep you company for another year.”

Yuna turns red in the face, a high pitched complaint emitting from her throat. “I told you to keep quiet about that!”

“Oh, what’s this?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “We’re starting boy talk early today.”

Yuna huffs. “At least, mine’s just a crush. I don’t know what relationship status: complicated you have going on with Mr. Soccer Captain.”

You flush hotly. “There’s no relationship status to be complicated about! Seriously, why does everyone think we’re a thing?”

“You’re cheer captain and he’s soccer captain,” Ryujin answers logically. “Plus, you’re best friends.”

“You have a lot of sexual tension,” Yuna answers honestly.

You make a face, slipping your arms into theirs and pulling them along the sidewalk. You better get something to drink before the sky starts to turn purple from pink tinged blue.

“Ooh, another desperate attempt from (name) to not get teased,” Ryujin leans back to whisper to Yuna.

You stop walking. “Wait. Where are we going?”

Yuna shakes her head. “I’ll lead the way.”

Skipping over the concrete sidewalk, you laugh at your friends and their stories (read: Ryujin gushing over Yeji’s college dance club and Yuna’s newfound crush on Taehyun). The blue sky has tinged orange by now but it’s the sort of colour that sits in between more significant timeframes, like night and evening. Passing by a city square, you eye the people with wonder. A girl in a pink skirt skateboards smoothly over the concrete, her boyfriend filming her with a loving smile.

“We’re here!” Yuna announces.

You look around the large open plaza, with people of all ages and in different attires trying out skateboarding and rollerblading over the grey concrete. It’s been getting popular lately, with idol pop stars taking to it too but you never knew there was this big a community. There seems to be a few stalls renting out skateboards too. The wind caresses your hair, evening cool settling in nicely on your skin. The sky is purple but it’s lit up with the city buildings and street lamps flickering on. It’s not a bad day at all.

Someone catches your attention. A boy that sticks out like a sore thumb everywhere he goes.

“Sungchan?!”

Your eyes somehow always settle on his figure, tall and standing out in the crowd of teenagers. He clutches his blue bag, the one he’s had since third grade, close to his chest and looks more like a tourist in this place than a frequent visitor. He’s not the only one in school uniform now that you’re here.

“(name)!”

You hate how you love the way his face lights up when he sees you. You’re not actually into him. It’s your friends brainwashing you.

“I was going to invite you,” Sungchan says, a sorry smile on his face.

Ryujin and Yuna frown at each other but you can’t exactly ask the reason for it.

“Isn’t it great we had the same plans?” he beams at the three of you.

Yuna suppresses a smile and you wonder why. It’s not like your friends would know he’d be here—you’d know first as best friend.

"How did you guys come across this place?" He asks, eyes round with curiosity.

"Somi's Tiktok," Yuna answers, smiling. "We thought she works here but if she really was, guys would be swarming this place."

Ryujin raises her eyebrows. "Speaking of which, I can clearly see why there are so many girls here."

Sungchan beams, turning to you for affirmation and when you don't give him any, he drops his grin to a more polite smile.

“I don’t work at the stalls though,” he answers. “I’ve just been here a few times.”

“You’re trying to learn, aren’t you?” Ryujin asks, raising an eyebrow.

He nods. However, you furrow your eyebrows at her. How does she know? Eyes widening, you realize it must be the school forum. You remember reading a post about a student wanting to learn skateboarding and the wording felt familiar but you didn’t think much. How they figured it out, you will never know.

“Oh! Oh, I think my nose is bleeding. Oh god.” Yuna sniffs vehemently, her finger at her nose. “I think I’m going to need Ryujin to get me to a clinic.”

Linking her arm through Ryujin’s, Yuna makes an apologetic expression and runs off into a particularly crowded area.

You blink. The realization dawns.

"They just left me," you tell him, exasperated. "How could they just leave me?"

He shrugs. "My team left me at a rival school's field once."

Great. Your last outing before midterms and your friends have abandoned you. If this is the case, you wonder why they complain about you spending so much time with Sungchan and allegedly ignoring them.

You regain a sense of your surroundings and turn to him. "Wait. They really left you?"

He nods diligently, eyes trained upwards as he tries to recall the memory. "I told you, didn’t I? On the plus side though, I made friends with the opposite team."

"That's so… cute."

Your cheeks heat up at saying it out loud. If Sungchan is affected by it in any way, he doesn't show it. Instead, he has his usual smile on.

“Do you wanna try?” he asks. “Skateboarding. Or rollerblading but I personally don’t recommend that.”

He curls his lips, shaking his head slightly. You laugh. Of course this beanpole has trouble balancing on skates.

"I- I figured you'd be good at skateboarding. Since, you know, you're so balanced and all."

You raise an eyebrow. "You wanna add skateboarding to your resume or something?"

"Yeah, that and the ability to imitate dog sounds. Wanna see?"

"No, thanks. I’ll pray this weekend to cure your furry behaviour."

Before he can respond, you’re interrupted by a whirlwind of colours and excited calls. A few girls run up to the two of you, younger and probably in middle school, flocking to Sungchan like bees to honey. Never in your life have you felt so ignored as in this singular moment.

You blink, turning to Sungchan who looks like a rather helpless, flustered eye of the hurricane. The winds don't seem to be stopping any time soon.

You clear your throat trying to get their attention.

"Wow, you brought your girlfriend?" One of the girls exclaims, sounding disappointed.

The other girls make similar whines of disappointment and you have half the heart to whack them over the head and tell them to focus on their academics instead of boys.

"You're so lucky to have him as your boyfriend," a girl comments, round eyes brimming with jealousy.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you declare sharply.

Sungchan looks at you with his doe eyes, blinking cartoonishly. You nudge him with your elbow.

“Yeah!” He agrees, with far too much gusto to be believable. “I’m not (name)’s boyfriend. I have no idea why everyone keeps saying that.”

“Let’s go, babe,” you say, resisting the urge to stick your tongue out at the girls. They’re younger than you and you have high school dignity, you remind yourself.

Slipping your hand into his, you take a few long strides away from them before you realize what you said.

“I- I did- I didn’t mean to call you babe,” you sputter, pulling your hand from his to look at him with wide eyes.

“It’s okay though?”

Sungchan raises an eyebrow and slips his hand back into yours, smiling.

“I don’t mind the rumours, you know?” He says honestly but his smile feels all too teasing. “Maybe we should go out for real.”

You huff, separating yourself from him again. “Maybe you just love attention. Disgusting.”

You point an accusatory finger at him and he bites at it playfully.

“While you're here, wanna see a cool trick I learned?" He straightens only having to tilt his head to look at you.

"If it's you falling on your face, then yes."

"I mean, hey, I could totally do that. Done that several times actually."

You smile despite trying your hardest not to. You like this about him—that he’s easygoing enough to make you look at life less seriously. If it’s with him, you could quit everything that makes you unhappy and start everything you love.

“So where is your skateboard?” you ask, walking side by side with him, who has finally learned to match your pace.

“It’s with one of my friends,” he answers, and points to a tall girl with long brown hair, wearing a pair of tomboyish shorts and T-shirt. Another girl with short hair and a bucket hat accompanies her, wearing a long hoodie and shorts, but she leaves before you reach them. They must be from a different school because you’ve never seen them before. The first thing that pops into your head is that they’d be good replacements for your cheerleading position if you were ever to leave. You shake your head. Now is not the time.

“That’s Jimin!” he introduces, and you wonder how he’s this way—how he makes friends so easily.

Jimin waves at Sungchan and then proceeds to ask if you’re his girlfriend with a big smile, like a script being followed everywhere you go.

She seems a little disappointed at the answer. “Well, I was going to suggest one of the couples skateboards.”

You flash her an awkward smile.

“But those are pretty difficult! I’ve been here for a month and my idea of skateboarding is still sitting on it while Soeun pushes me around. That’s my friend, by the way.”

“Ah.” You nod. “This is my first time skateboarding, actually. The only ‘sport’ I’ve ever done is cheerleading.”

Jimin furrows her eyebrows before her eyes widen. “Wait a minute. You’re the cheerleader best friend that Sungchan wouldn’t shut up about!”

Sungchan flusters, in the subtle way he usually does, and waves his hands robotically trying to explain. “I was just saying- that- that you’d be good at skateboarding. Because of the cheerleading.”

A boxy grin accompanies his explanation.

“Right.” Jimin covers her face and sends an obvious wink your way. “Anyway, you can have my skateboard for the day.”

She hands over a smooth black skateboard with white wheels, but on closer inspection you find that they’re light-up wheels instead. It’s oddly fitting for someone like Jimin even if you’ve known her the entirety of ten minutes. Sungchan is good at finding friends, rather. Soon enough, she runs off after making Sungchan promise he’ll deliver the skateboard home.

The trick Sungchan wanted to show you was a failed kickflip. At the very least, it made you laugh so hard you almost spit out the strawberry milk he’d bought you. Sipping his own banana milk, he sulked for a moment or two, telling you to try it out and see how difficult it is.

On the contrary, Sungchan was right. You are good at balancing on skateboards. But that’s where it ends. You don’t think you’ll be naturally good at kickflips, though being able to glide through the plaza while Sungchan runs after you with the drinks puts a big smile on your face. It’s the most fun you’ve had in a while.

Accompanied by Sungchan’s panicked “oh no”s and “oh we messed up”s, the two of you try the couple skateboarding move too; no one’s watching you here. It’s fun to see him stress over a skateboard because frankly, you’ve never met anyone as easy-going as Sungchan. (“I’ll figure it out along the way,” he says when you ask if he’s studying for finals, and proceeds to get a decent enough score). Suddenly the wandering gap is closed again. You’re not going to worry about stupid rumours from now on.

But for some reason, ‘you like him as a friend’ doesn’t sound right either. Despite having said it so many times, you might not believe in it. You shake off the thought. This evening, at least, you’re going to enjoy with Sungchan without thinking of teenage drama and hormones.

"You still don't think you and Sungchan make the perfect pair?" Yuna pouts.

You narrow your eyes. "I don't take opinions from traitors."

Chaeryoung leans back on her chair, and whispers to you asking if you’re okay. At least someone is concerned about you.

“It hurts to be left by my own friends but—”

“No, I meant, are you okay? Why aren’t you dating Sungchan already? You’re so cute together! And you’re best friends—Netflix writers literally daydream of this.”

You groan, throwing up your hands in defeat.

“And,” Yuna adds, knocking her chair closer. “Who’s really the traitor here? Us who ditched you with the love of your life—or you, who runs off every time she gets a call from her boyfriend?”

“Sungchan is not my boyfriend.” You cross your arms.

“She even shares her lunch with him more,” Ryujin complains from the side. “And they’re not even in the same class. Unlike me, by the way. Class 1 Shin Ryujin. Same class as you, (name).”

You slump, resting your forehead against the desk. At this point, you wish the teacher would walk in and start the class already. Unfortunately, lunch break isn’t over for another ten minutes and lady luck clearly isn’t smiling upon you.

“Speak of the devil!” Ryujin announces monotonously, leaning against her desk.

Sungchan and a few of his friends from the soccer team wave at you and the girls from the classroom door. Noticing Taehyun, Yuna quickly fixes her hair and you would tease her if Sungchan hadn’t casually strolled up to your desk and sat down on the chair in front of you. Long legs barely contained in the space, he adjusts himself by resting his arm on the headrest and his chin upon it. It’s all normal. However, when he leans down to match your eye level, you hear the sudden pit-a-pat of your pulse in your ear. At this proximity, you can even see the mole on his lip that he’s pointed out before. The sunlight from the open windows is pulling golden strings over his eyelashes and his lips aren’t dry as a desert like you expected. You know he uses the watermelon flavoured lip balm.

“Too close,” you croak. Embarrassed at your own voice, you rise sharply and glare at him.

“Is your heart fluttering?” Sungchan asks, smiling as he looks up at you.

You roll your eyes.

You can hear Yuna’s giggling and before you can shoot her a glare, Sungchan calls.

"Do you have any bandaids?"

He points to a rough scratch at the base of his palm, fingers slender and less calloused than what you'd pictured. Then again, soccer players don't use their hands much, do they?

You blink. "You came all the way here for bandaids?"

"Well… I remembered you keep band-aids in your phone case. And the nurse hates me."

You giggle.

Yujin mouths from behind Sungchan, “He just wanted to see her.”

You would feel flattered if you didn't know these people and their shenanigans. They'd do anything for some drama (and to get two innocent people into the dating trap).

“Why would I waste my cute band aids on you?” you mutter under your breath. “They’re limited edition, you know?”

No way are you sticking Ice Bear on your urban hazard of a best friend. A tall, cute, surprisingly polite hazard but he still annoys you nonetheless.

However, Sungchan's pleading smile has grown on you.

You reluctantly take the band-aid out of your clear phone case, the pink panda doll attached to it swaying with the movement. Proceeding, you take Sungchan's hand and lay it on your desk. With careful focus, you place the band-aid, admiring the size difference of your hands before snapping to reality.

Enough with the pink cloud of thoughts, you scold yourself.

When you look up, the proximity makes your heart skip a beat despite the logical part of you saying you shouldn't. Your faces are too close and this time, you don't even have the energy to croak it out.

"Thanks, (name)," Sungchan smiles at you.

Right then, the sound of a chair sliding harshly against the floor makes the two of you jolt away from each other. All of your friends and his friends seem to be sporting Cheshire cat grins and you don't like it one bit. You don't like not being in on the gag.

"Anybody up for gaming after this? My treat." Chenle looks around. “Sungchan is banned from the arcade soccer game though.”

"'Ey," Sungchan complains.

"Hey, Jisung and Ryujin are banned from DDR too but that's because they almost broke the handles off last time."

The memory makes you smile. Sungchan was there too, and you don’t know why you’re only just recalling all the memories with him in it, carefully and in detail. Every one of them seems to have been amplified, the little interactions suddenly coming to mind.

“(name)? You’re coming?”

You take one look at Sungchan and give up. Even if this is another childish ploy by your peers, you don't mind spending some more time at the arcade with infuriatingly addictive games. A tiny part of you is even willing to go along with them and see if it turns out the way they want it to.

“I’ll go,” you mumble, and the rest of the group cheers.

“But I have cleaning duty today.”

The group groans.

“Just get someone else to do it. Like a junior.”

“Isn’t that bullying?” You ask, frowning.

“Ask nicely. Anyone would be willing to do your bidding, (name).”

“Chenle, will you do it?” You give him a sickly sweet smile. “You’re class president after all.”

Chenle wrinkles his nose. “You’re getting stupider every day, (name).”

You sigh. “Fine. I’ll ask one of Yuna’s classmates then.”

“By the way,” Chenle announces. “Only twelfth graders are invited—”

A bunch of groans interrupt him.

“Quit whining.” He crosses his arms, glaring at them. “What do you even have to worry about? We’re preparing for the exam of our lives. Oh, and Jisung is an exception.”

“We’re only two years apart,” Yuna mutters under her breath.

“Oh, and from class 5, only Sungchan is invited.”

Another round of complaints pass and Chenle breaks into laughter. “Just kidding.”

Your friends are and will always be an odd bunch. Sungchan has previously proved to be the weirdest (several times) and it makes him the most lovable too. But then again, you don’t have free space in your timetable to put in teenage crushes, much less falling for your best friend. What you do have time for this afternoon, however, is relaxing at the arcade.

“Let’s go! I am so good at this. Think I’d impress your Steve Curry?” Ryujun gloats, after having scored three hoops in a row at the arcade basketball game.

“It’s Stephen Curry,” Chenle corrects. “And no, let’s focus here. Our goals are—”

He points to the two figures by the DDR machine, looking like a real couple. He’s been acting as damage control for the rumours and making sure you don’t drift apart because of it. They really don’t make guys like him anymore, Chenle sighs. He should get a friendship award or something.

“—those two.”

Really, Sungchan better be thanking him by the end of this. He’s never met anyone quite like Jung Sungchan, especially because Chenle cannot picture himself liking the same person since elementary school.

“Man, now I wish I had a girlfriend,” Chenle mutters.

Ryujin snorts. “Who’s going to date you?”

“You don’t have a boyfriend either,” Chenle reminds and gets a basketball to the shoulder.

“Why are you playing that when you don’t even know how to use it?” Your voice rings through to them.

“I said I’ll figure it out!” Sungchan reasons.

Chenle and Ryujin stare at the two of you blankly, as you bicker over a claw machine game and they share a look.

“Do they need our help?” Ryujin whispers.

Chenle shakes his head. “I think they’ll figure it out from here.”

Soon enough, you were laughing at Sungchan’s failed attempts and trying to outplay him. Your friends have already given you the shove. Chenle and Ryujin share a high five and that’s where the new story begins.

You finally know the thrill of a teenage crush. It makes you so damn infuriated that it had to be Jung Sungchan.

Now every time he waves at you from the field or hands you a bottle of strawberry milk or explains the calc notes you missed or does the bare minimum, you need to deal with the quickening of your pulse and a few butterflies loose from their cage in your stomach. It doesn’t help that you’re almost always together.

The two of you currently sit by the school field, Sungchan tying his shoelaces while you cool off with the water bottle he offered you. Practice ended a while ago for you and the girls have receded into the air conditioned indoor gym. The indoor gym is apparently occupied by the gymnast club and you couldn’t be more disappointed that you didn’t join them instead.

If anything, however, you’d rather leave this whole thing and focus on your academics. Hobbies shouldn’t be draining you—they should feel like skateboarding on a lilac evening with the wind in your hair.

With a friend you like very, very much.

“Sungchan,” you call quietly.

“Hm?”

When he looks up, you can’t hold in the urge to fix the hair out of his eyes. You’ve never been very physically affectionate so it might have come off strange. Sungchan looks at you quietly, stars in his eyes and you clear your throat.

“How long have you been playing soccer? It was before we met, right?”

He hums, eyes traveling up and then back to you when he remembers. “Since I was six. You were there at my first soccer match actually.”

“I was? Oh my god, was it the one you lost horribly and the whole team started crying?”

“Yes. Yes, it was.”

You giggle. “Six year old you would be so in awe now.”

Sungchan beams at that.

“Who knows?” he smiles, looking into your eyes with firm determination. “Maybe I’ll be the next Son Heungmin.”

“Even I know who that is so… no.”

Sungchan pouts and you make a face in disgust. “Don’t act cute, it gives me hives.”

“Okay, maybe not Son Heungmin. I could definitely be the next Park Jisung—and I don’t mean him.”

Sungchan points to a boy passed out on the benches, his exhaustion typical of any high schooler while another boy sits beside him, fanning him with a bunch of assignment papers. Jisung and Chenle really are more entertaining than any game on this field.

You turn to look at Sungchan, who’s moving his head around trying to catch their attention. When he finally does, he waves at them and gets big grins in response. He’s not all that bad, you think. In fact, he’s quite possibly the most amiable boy in senior year.

“Just be Jung Sungchan,” you mutter. “Not Son Heungmin or Park Jisung.”

Sungchan turns to you, smiling wide. “Advice taken.”

You scoff. “Whatever.”

Maybe it’s just you but Sungchan has been glancing at your lips very frequently today and mentally thank Chaeryoung for letting you borrow her lip tint. You didn’t know something so subtle could get you this giddy.

“Are you… going to give the CSAT?” You ask, glancing at him nervously. Part of you is sad you only developed your first high school crush in the very last semester. Or if it’s comforting, you could believe you’ve liked him all this time.

“Nah. Sports scholarship,” he says nonchalantly. “I was going to tell you but… I’ve been scouted already.”

You gasp. “That’s… great. Your future’s all settled.”

Sungchan seems to dislike the idea, lips pursing. “I don’t think anything’s settled except for the next step.”

You nod, somewhat understanding.

“What about you?” He asks. “Any university in mind? SKY? I’ve seen you study extra hours at the library.”

You look away, not feeling ready for the conversation.

“I don’t know,” you say quietly. “I don’t know what I like and what I want. I don’t even like cheer anymore.”

Sungchan gazes at you wordlessly but it’s the most comfortable you’ve felt talking about this.

“Maybe I should quit,” you mumble.

You don’t want to commit to something you no longer have passion for. But then again, you’ve spent so much time on it that it’s hard to leave.

“You should,” he responds, honest.

You scoff, shaking yourself from that moment of vulnerability. “But why would I quit something I’m good at?”

“If you don’t like it. If it hurts to leave but isn’t any better when you stay, you should leave.”

You roll your eyes. “You’re quite the philosopher.”

“I’m smart, right?”

You smile.

“Oy, you two!” Chenle calls, making his way to you two with Jisung trailing behind. “I don’t mean to interrupt your flirting but you got a spare water bottle?”

“Are you two going out now?” Jisung asks as a follow-up, and you feel a hot flush for some reason, unlike the previous times you’ve been asked this question.

“No,” you answer. You don’t mind the idea though now.

“Don’t lie,” Chenle complains. “I saw that picture of Sungchan teaching you how to kick a ball. You? And soccer? Something’s up.”

You throw up your hands in exasperation. “Seriously, who keeps up posting to the school page? And where do they get the time?”

"Two people with this much compatibility will always be a hot topic."

"We're not compatible," you retort quickly.

"Wait," Jisung says. "I know how to resolve this."

You raise an eyebrow.

"How do you have your cereal?" He asks, looking from you to Sungchan.

"Cereal first, obviously," you answer.

Sungchan looks up, finger below his chin as he thinks. "I drink the milk first, then eat the cereal and then breakdance to mix it all together."

You pinch your nose. "I swear I question your sanity all the time."

"Hah! That means you're thinking about me all the time."

You look away, rolling your eyes. He responds with an open-mouthed smile and finger guns.

"See?" Jisung grins. "Compatible."

The gruff voice of Coach Lee startles the four of you and Sungchan leaves with a sigh and a promise of meeting after practice. Jisung leaves with Sungchan and Chenle gives you one last teasing smirk before sitting down and going through the assignment papers he was using as a fan previously. You will never understand his miraculous ways of performing his presidential duties.

You don’t have a good feeling about the next match. The only reason you’re even sticking around anymore—as embarrassing as it—is to spend more time with Sungchan. Being with him puts you at ease, even if the school tries to wrap the two of you in a rope of uneasiness. This is your very last practice, for the next match is the final one of this year and then you’ll be back to spending even longer hours at the library with a stack of textbooks. It’s supposed to be a carefree age. At least, adults say that. Your high school life seems to be riddled with worries, and with that thought, you head into the air conditioned room to take a breather off your anxieties.

Only one more match, you remind yourself.

The pre-match buzz is driving you to the edge.

Your form is off, you can feel it already and Coach Kim isn’t as sunshine-as-rainbows as she usually is, courtesy to it being the last match of your life. She’ll never know though, how much you don’t want to do this.

Sungchan waves at you as he usually does before a match, disappointing a third of his fangirls, but it helps you ease. One last time, (name).

Watching the crowd of people, parents and siblings and friends, all excited and talking makes you take a deep breath. You practiced but it wasn’t good enough. You can never do well at something you don’t like anymore. This time, you feel guilty for committing to things half-heartedly. You want to start that fresh new college chapter already, with all of this behind.

There’s ten minutes left. You go back to the empty hall outside the lockers only to pace. This isn’t helping.

“(name)!”

You turn around abruptly to find Sungchan’s tall figure, and you must be looking miserable because his smile falls.

He doesn’t even ask what’s wrong, only takes careful steps towards you. “Do you need water? Medicine?”

His hands hover over your shoulder but he doesn’t burden you with them. You put your face in your palms and sigh, sinking down to the floor in a crouch.

“I want to quit,” you whisper. Your voice comes off more brittle than you’d like, and you realize that Sungchan hasn’t seen you cry since seventh grade when you failed a math test. You didn’t tell him then but you appreciated him studying extra hours for math just to teach you.

“You don’t have to go out there if you don’t want to,” he says quietly, dropping to the floor beside you. “I’ll stay with you.”

You stare at him dumbfounded. “Don’t be ridiculous! They’ll lose without you—you’re the ace, Sungchan!”

“There will always be an ace,” he retorts. “Maybe Jisung will finally get to shine. Or anyone else. I don’t mind spending an hour with you alone.”

You feel a hot flush spread over your cheeks. Looking away to the side, you mumble an ‘alright’ and only glance from the corner of your eye to see him smiling. Jung Sungchan is the most unreasonable boy you’ve ever met. Perhaps it makes him somewhat loveable too.

“It’s your last match,” you whisper helplessly.

“I’ll join the college soccer club and get to play more matches.”

You sigh, giving in. If he’s so adamant, you think that perhaps there is something in you worth sacrificing his game over. It makes an oddly warm feeling bloom in your chest. Sungchan is so damn convincing with his words. You wonder if it’s really okay.

With shoulders touching, an awkward silence takes over in the next second. You turn to him and open your mouth, watch him do the same and close it at the same time he does.

“You know,” he begins, “I was kind of lying about not worrying because I get the feeling coach will evaporate me tomorrow but—I can handle it. Mostly.”

You stare at him with wide, worried eyes. “You don’t have to do this, Sungchan. I’m the one running away.”

You slouch, pulling your knees closer to your chest and burying your face in them. The urge to scream is boiling within you but you can’t get caught. Not now.

“Sometimes to run is the brave thing,” he responds, insightful. “If you’re not up for it, it’s better to quit early than to regret it in the long run.”

You don’t know if it’s the fact that he just quoted Taylor Swift or spoke like your old school counselor—but you find yourself laughing. He makes sense. Sungchan, in his weird, oddball ways, always makes sense. And in that same way, he feels like home.

“You’re so good to me,” you say, looking up at him and at a proximity you’ve never been before.

It’s his turn to fluster, though he doesn’t do so as visibly as you do. He clears his throat, shifting his eyes around before meeting yours. “I- This is bad timing but… I like you. I really do. Since third grade when you drew that birthday card for me. I have it in my bedside drawer, by the way.”

He looks away and makes a face, probably wondering why he said that out loud.

You press your lips tight to prevent the smile that tugs at them. He looks at you with a wobbly smile, trying his hardest to resume his usual dignity—but he’s just a boy, after all.

“My type is dumb and pretty, though?” You tease, the smile escaping. “You said it yourself.”

He blinks. “Well, I am pretty but if you want me to be stu—”

You shake your head. “I like you too. You don’t have to act cute.”

He pauses, thinking. “I have never acted cute in my life ever. I was born cu—”

You hold his face between your thumb and forefinger. “You do that again and you die.”

He breaks into a smile.

“I’ve never met someone quite like you,” you whisper, embarrassed of your own feelings bubbling up from the bottle you had kept them in.

He laughs, open-mouthed and pretty.

“Actually, hey, I didn’t like you all this time from fifth. I liked you and then I didn’t like you and then I liked you again—”

“Okay, I get it.”

His shoulders relax and he smiles at you. You look up at the clock on the wall by the entrance to the field and bite your lip. You don’t love performing anymore but you know all the girls do, even the stand-bys. Jisung might not have to take over Sungchan’s position but you bet one of those tenth graders would love to take yours, the same way you did back then. They’ve practiced harder than you too and it’s only a matter of deserving.

You take a deep breath and get up, pulling up Sungchan by the hand. He raises an eyebrow, inquisitive eyes scanning over your face and you smile at him, strengthening your resolve. You should have done this way sooner.

Sungchan plays. You don’t let him sit it out with you.

Halfway through, you cheer the hardest you ever have, plastic decorative gemstones stuck by your eyes borrowed from the other girls cheering. It’s much more fun, you think. You’ve never experienced soccer like this. You’d love to sit at stadiums and join in victory chants. There’s enough weight off your chest to yell your lungs out.

Sungchan scores a goal almost immediately after and sends a thumbs up over to you. You laugh. This is the best break you’ve ever taken from cheerleading.

“Ooh, is this perhaps the (name) effect?” Chenle’s voice rings through the speakers and you feel yourself shrink slightly under the eyes. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see your homeroom teacher signal very angrily to the commentator box. You shake yourself off it. So what if everyone’s looking?

Sungchan places his hands on his hips, chest heaving and sends another signal to you before beelining for a straight goal. You whoop and the girl with a notebook beside you is visibly annoyed at this point but you don’t care.

Without doubt, your school wins and you watch as Sungchan runs to his team, a big smile on his face. The second he’s done getting pet by the team, however, he rushes to the bleachers, skipping over the steps to you, panting when he stops. The risk he took was definitely not calculated. He holds up one finger while he heaves.

“My cheering worked best this time, it seems,” you say to him, laughing.

His face is flushed from the exertion but he laughs heartily. “You could be yelling profanity at me and it’d still encourage me.”

You shake your head at the cheesy line. He takes a step forward, well inside your space but you don’t mind. He leans in.

“Everyone is looking at us,” he says under his breath. “Is that a good or a bad thing?”

You look behind him to find the whole team, along with your girls sharing furtive glances and giggling at the sight of the two of you. A few of the junior girls slap each other’s arms, bouncing on the balls of their feet in excitement. You’re not a celebrity. But everyone wants to cheer things on once in a while, don’t they?

“Good,” you answer, before pulling him by the shirt into a chaste kiss. When you pull apart, Sungchan’s face is so struck with awe that you want to look away but instead you bite back an obvious smile. It’s about damn time, someone from the soccer team yells.

“Woah. I think I scored a goal either way,” he says, an offbeat smile on his face.

“Oh come on, we didn’t even get to chant ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ yet—oh shit, the mic’s on.”

Chenle is definitely getting an earful from your teacher after this. The two of you wave at him at the box and end up laughing at him trying to hide behind the desk.

As expected, the whole crowd surrounds the two of you in less than a minute’s worth of time, with several congratulations and “good score” offered to the two of you. The boys mess up Sungchan’s hair while the girls compliment you on how cute a couple you are. There’s also the question of when you started dating that pauses the buzz and makes everyone look to the two of you for an answer. Sungchan turns to you and you turn to him, and there’s no way you’ll tell half the school that your confession came in a private hallway outside the field—teenage imaginations run wild.

Instead, you slip your hand into Sungchan’s and run down the bleachers and towards the exit, laughter spilling from your lips. There’s only one place you can think of going to spend a cool blue late afternoon with.

“Skate plaza?” He asks.

“Skate plaza,” you answer.

#cznnet #neowritingsnet #nct x reader #sungchan x reader #nct fluff #sungchan fluff #nct imagines #nct scenarios #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #nct x you #sungchan x you #nct sungchan #jung sungchan #nct oneshot #sungchan oneshot #nct fanfic #sungchan fanfic #moonwrites

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ncssian · 3 years

Text

A Favor: Bonus Scene Two (Gwynriel)

Masterlist

a/n: this picks up right after nesta leaves gwyn’s apartment in Part 24. warning for discussions of sex, obviously.

***

As soon as the apartment door shuts after Nesta, Gwyn releases a breath and turns to Azriel with a wide gaze. “Do I really have to teach you guitar?” she says.

“Of course not.” He rolls his eyes. It was a throwaway line meant to get Nesta off his back, and even she didn’t entirely believe it. He moves toward the kitchen to get a glass of water, still shaken from Nesta storming into Gwyn’s bedroom like that. Not that she interrupted much. Gwyn still has a long way to go before she can handle anyone touching her between her legs, Azriel thinks.

He never asked Gwyn what a twenty-seven year old woman was so afraid of sex for when she first suggested her proposal to him. She looked so scared that he would question her that he couldn’t bring himself to poke even a little bit. Not that he needs to poke. He’s not a fucking idiot, and Gwyn’s thighs had been trembling in involuntary fear under his hands earlier. She’s been hurt.

For her sake, he pretends to remain ignorant and incurious, but right now his grip on the glass in his hand is so tight it might shatter. His face remains cool as he pours himself water.

“Why didn’t you tell her the truth?” Gwyn hops up onto the kitchen counter and swings her freakishly long legs. “About what you get out of our deal?”

“I don’t expect you to teach me sex for free, obviously,” Gwyn blabbered the day after they got back from the ski lodge. “You can ask for something from me, too. Even money, if that’s your thing.”

Prostitution was not Azriel’s thing, though he wouldn’t knock it. The truth was that his brain had started turning as soon as Gwyn told him about her idea, and now it couldn’t stop. Oddly enough, this opportunity was perfect.

“Tell Nesta that I’m using you as a rebound?” Azriel nearly snorts on his water. “Did you miss the part where she almost cut my dick off and choked me with it?”

Gwyn hums noncommittally. “Being a distraction from your ex is better for me than it is for you. It’s insurance that you won’t get any funny ideas.” She narrows her teal eyes at him. “If you find yourself moving on from Nesta’s hot sister, you better tell me right away. I’ll end this whole thing quickly and cleanly.”

“Why?” He thought moving on from Elain was the goal, one he was unlikely to achieve.

“You know.” She crosses her arms in an X over her chest like she’s warding him off. “You might catch—feelings for me.”

This time Azriel really does snort on his water, hard. His laughter turns into coughing when it slips down the wrong pipe, and liquid dribbles onto his shirt. Gwyn just sits there and stares at him in vague disgust.

When he’s done choking, he wipes his mouth with the hem of his tee and gasps, “Even without Elain, you wouldn’t need to worry about that. Trust me.”

Gwyn wrinkles her freckled nose in distaste. “I would be offended if I wasn’t so relieved.”

He’s still chuckling when Gwyn says cautiously, “By the way…” She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Did you really ghost Elain?”

Azriel is no longer amused.

“When you said you broke up with her, I thought you actually broke up with her,” Gwyn continues. “I didn’t know you were one of those guys.”

Shame tinged with embarrassment floods Azriel, and he doesn’t have the slightest idea why. Why does it matter what Gwyn of all people thinks of him, especially when she doesn’t have all the details?

He thought he was making things easier for Elain by leaving without a word. He thought she would let him slip out of her mind after a couple of weeks just like he slipped out of her life, and that it would be better than having to hear him dump his insecurities on her.

He knows now that he was only making things easier for himself. Knows that if he had stayed and talked things out with Elain, she would have convinced him to stay. If he had called her at all in the past two months, he would have gone running back to Velaris like a sailor answering a siren’s song.

She’s always been a siren—which is why he can’t regret doing what would have happened eventually anyway. Even without that Vanserra bastard or some other man, Elain could never have been a permanent fixture in Azriel’s life. Little details sprinkled throughout their time together confirm that for him now.

That doesn’t mean Elain deserved it, or deserves it now. Azriel knows that.

But all he can think of to say to Gwyn is, “Yeah, maybe I am one of those guys.” He puts his glass in the sink. “You still want me as your teacher?”

Gwyn shrugs, looking away. “It’s not like I’ve got any other choice.”

Azriel would disagree. He says what he’s been thinking since they got back from Cassian’s birthday trip. “Wouldn’t you rather do this with someone you love and trust?”

“God no,” Gwyn snorts, providing no further explanation.

Azriel can understand being hesitant to admit sexual inexperience to a crush, but it doesn’t stop him from judging Gwyn’s new man. If this coworker of hers is so great, wouldn’t she be able to trust him unabashedly with her insecurities? Wouldn’t he readily accept her for all that she is?

Ugh, he’s been dipping into Nesta’s reading collection too much lately. “Alright, then.” He leans against the counter opposite Gwyn. “Let’s talk about learning. You clammed up in bed back there after ignoring my suggestions and shoving my head between your legs.”

“I clammed up because of my best friend barging into my room and catching us together,” Gwyn defends.

“Your pussy was dry as bread before that,” he retorts. Ooh, now he wants toast.

Gwyn turns a furious shade of red while Azriel starts looking around for bread. He finds it sitting by the toaster. “Can you not say that?” she hisses at him.

“What?” He looks up from dropping bread into the toaster.

“You know…” She glances around cautiously as if someone might overhear. “Pussy.”

“Pussy,” he says again, just to be annoying. Gwyn’s shoulders turn inward in embarrassment, and he has to hold back a grin. Yeah, she’s definitely not ready for oral.

He finds a butter knife and some peanut butter. “I told you to start easy and you ignored me. You tried jumping into the deep end without learning how to tread water.”

Gwyn scoffs. “And what does ‘treading water’ entail again?”

Azriel shrugs, plucking up his finished toast. “Making out, heavy petting, freshman-year-of-high-school kind of stuff.”

“I’ve done that before,” she mutters indignantly. “Maybe not in my freshman year, but I’ve done it.”

He wonders how long ago that was, or if it was before she was—hurt.

“Besides,” Gwyn goes on before he can push the matter further, “I’m not budging on kissing. I want to save that for the man I actually like.”

“You don’t like me?” Azriel raises a brow, slathering peanut butter over his toast. “You definitely don’t act the same with me as you do with other men.” Or at least that’s what he assumes. Up until a short while ago, he never would’ve been able to imagine timid Gwyn having the guts to ask anyone for sex ed. That’s got to make him special, right?

But then Gwyn waves him off and says, “That’s ‘cause you’re not a real man. I knew you before puberty.”

Azriel nearly drops his toast. “Wow, the nerve of this woman,” he mutters with wide eyes. If she keeps this up, he’s going to start regretting ever going to the same school as her. “That’s not what you said when you were going on about how attracted you are to me.”

“I said you were attractive, not that I was attracted.” Gwyn’s blush is more from irritation than shyness now. “You do the job, but you’re no Max.” She giggles at saying his name. Actually giggles. “I’ll only kiss Max.”

“What kind of stupid ass name is Max?” Azriel grumbles through a mouthful of peanut butter.

“It’s short for Maximillian.”

He chokes. “Jesus, that’s even worse.” He’s doing all this work for some guy named Maximillian. Maybe he should just go home and let Nesta give him the beating he deserves.

Except thinking about Nesta only reminds Azriel of what a coward he is, because he fears facing her again almost as much as he fears facing Elain. “By the way, could I…” he starts hesitantly.

Gwyn gives him a judgmental sneer. “You don’t want to go back to the cabin, do you?”

He shakes his head.

“You can’t stay here,” she responds, crushing his hopes. “I have plans tonight, but even if I didn’t, I wouldn’t let you be such a wimp.” She hops off the counter and comes over to him, surprising him by grabbing both of his shoulders. “Azriel,” she says somberly.

He swallows his toast roughly.

“You have to grow some balls,” she continues. “Not just for your sake, but for the sake of every poor woman in your life. Also, all this drama is personally a turn-off for me, which is detrimental to my sex education.” She wrinkles her nose. “Do better and all that, you know?”

Damn, okay.

Instead of standing there like an idiot, Azriel manages to say, “Fine, I’ll go.” He shoves the rest of his toast into his mouth and dusts off his hands, heading for the living room.

“Wait, you don’t have to leave right now—” Gwyn follows after him. Azriel is already on the couch, pulling a stray notepad and pen on the coffee table closer to himself.

He clicks the pen. “When’s that library guy planning to take you out?” he asks, starting to write.

Gwyn hovers near him, watching the notepad over his shoulder in confusion. “Um, this Saturday. Just a casual coffee shop thing.”

“Then I’ll see you on Friday.” He scribbles down some bullet points and labels the page LESSON PLAN. “Until then, think about a way to enjoy foreplay without kissing. Here are some suggestions so you can practice.” He tears the lined paper out of the notepad and hands it to Gwyn.

Her eyes skim over the page, brows rising with each point she reads. “Is all this really necessary?”

Azriel remembers how he barely brushed his lips against Gwyn’s core before having to pull away and kiss her quivering thigh instead. He can’t have sex with an unaroused woman, and he definitely can’t do it with a terrified woman. “Foreplay is absolutely necessary,” he says, getting up from the couch and stretching to his full height. Where Elain used to only reach his chest, Gwyn’s head almost reaches his nose. It amuses him for some reason.

“Do you like movies?” he adds. “I’ll take you to the movies on Friday.” Preferably something boring and played out, so the theater will be empty and she won’t be paying attention.

Gwyn’s eyes widen. “Is going on dates also part of foreplay?”

“It can be,” Azriel shrugs. It will be when he does it. He drops a hand onto Gwyn’s head and ruffles her hair. “I’d love to stay and help you study, but I have to go and grow some balls.” He mock-frowns at her as he heads for his shoes and keys. “See you later, Gwyneth.”

***

a/n: wait why do i wanna write the movie theater scene now… pls help me im just trying to finish this damn fic im getting too old for this

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook a favor: @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland @moodymelanist @pixieelea @teagoddess99

#ncssianwrites #gwynriel #a favor #bonus scene

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thewintersoldierdisaster · 3 years

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i had fun with this one! enjoy :)

You hear the yelling and shouting before you’re even at the front step to the cabin. Looking down at Vice, you mutter, “Uh oh, boy, what are we walking into now?” Vice lets out a little bark and tilts his head, tongue lolling out of his mouth. You sigh and nod, “Agreed. Definitely something stupid. Well, come on then.” You jog up the front steps, holding loosely onto the leash so Vice trots behind you at his own pace.

The shouting gets louder when you open the front door and it’s clear that both Hopper and El are equally angry. Vice looks up at you with wide eyes and you hurriedly unclip his leash - he darts off, making a beeline for El’s bedroom. He’s probably going to hide under the bed and you’ll have to drag him out, dust bunnies and all, when the fight is over. Coward. Jim and El are standing two or three feet apart, faces red with anger, fists clenched at their sides, and voices so loud the windowpanes are rattling. Although the rattling windowpanes could be a result of El’s anger controlling her powers - either way, it’s loud. “Hey!” you call out a couple of times, trying to get their attention, but they’re both so absorbed in the shouting, they don’t notice you. You sigh and raise your hand to your mouth, letting loose a sharp, ear-piercing whistle. The shouting stops and both Hopper and El swivel their heads to face you. There’s matching looks of annoyance on their faces and it would almost make you laugh if you weren’t annoyed by the shouting. “What the hell’s going on here?” you ask, crossing your arms over your chest. You jut your chin in the direction of El’s room, “Poor Vice is hiding under the bed, you freaked him out so much!” El’s face softens, “Oh no! Poor Vice! I don’t want him freaked out.” “Cares more about freaking out the damn dog than her own dad,” Hopper scoffs under his breath, causing El to turn to him, glaring and opening her mouth to start yelling again. You hold up a hand - the universal sign for stop - and say, “Oh no, no more yelling. You two are going to - calmly - explain what’s going on here.” Hopper looks about ready to explode - his face is red, his forehead is creased in anger, and he keeps clenching his hands into and out of fists. El looks marginally more calm, but you know that sometimes her anger is deceptive, hidden beneath still waters. Sighing again, you cross your arms and nod towards El, “Go ahead,” you tell her, before they can start shouting over each other. As it is, Hopper sputters angrily, barely able to form sentences as he protests the indignity of being told to wait. You ignore him. “Dad is being unreasonable!” El says, tone verging on a whine. You shoot her a look and she pouts. “Unreasonable? Fine, if I’m unreasonable, then you’re grounded for two months and no TV for three!” Hopper interjects angrily. “How am I supposed to see my friends?!” El shrieks back, her eyes flashing angrily. Hopper scoffs, “You’re not! That’s the point!” They’re shouting at each other again and you wonder how you lost control so quickly. You’re still not sure what happened, but then your gaze lands on a crumpled magazine discarded on the floor by Hopper’s feet. You skirt behind him and kick it to the side a bit before bending down and picking it up. Recognition dawns on your face as you take note of the cover. Oh. Some of the pieces are falling into place now. The bright colours and lurid headlines of last month’s Cosmo shine up at you and you wince as Hopper’s shouting grows louder. Sex tips for mutual pleasure are advertised in bold red letters and while you make a mental note to flip back to that article, you can also understand why Hopper’s freaking out so badly. Still, the shouting and punishing is a little over the top. “Hey,” you say loudly, reaching out and grabbing Hopper’s forearm and distracting him, “go take Vice for a walk and cool off.” “What?” Hopper stops yelling and looks at you, confusion clear in the scrunch of his eyebrows. “No. I’m not - she’s in trouble and I’m not coolin’ off.” “Jim,” you say his name quietly, but firmly. “This is a conversation I can handle. Please go calm down before you say something you regret.” His forearm is tense under your hand and his jaw works silently - he clearly wants to continue arguing with both you and El, but you look into his eyes and raise an eyebrow, communicating silently. He frowns deeply, but huffs an angry sigh. “Fine. Don’t think you’re off the hook ‘cause Y/n took over,” he points at El. “Don’t care what she tells ya, you’re still grounded for two weeks.” El opens her mouth to protest, but your hand lands on her shoulder and you cut her off with a silent look. “Go on, poor dog’s terrified,” you tell Hopper and watch silently as he stomps into El’s room and retrieves Vice from under the bed. He emerges a minute later with the dust-covered spaniel tucked under his arm. “An hour okay?” he asks you tightly. You nod and he replies with a terse nod of his own before snatching Vice’s leash off the hook by the front door and stepping out onto the porch. He lets the door slam shut behind him and you wait a minute for his heavy footsteps to fade away before turning to El. “Okay,” you sigh, “lets get comfortable, hon.” “He is being mean!” El pouts, stamping her foot on the floor. You ignore her outburst and traipse into the kitchen, intent on finding a snack to make the conversation easier. El, seeing that you’re not going to play into her mini-tantrum, pouts further and follows you into the kitchen. “He’s concerned,” you say simply, setting a bag of chocolate chip cookies onto the counter. You drop the crumpled Cosmo to the table next and tap lightly on the cover with an index finger. “Because of this.” “The magazine?” El’s face crinkles up in an adorable display of confusion. “Mhm,” you nod, “see, the magazine is for adults, about, um, well it’s about adult things.” “Like good screaming?” El asks, biting casually into a cookie. Now it’s your turn to scrunch your face up in confusion. “Huh?” you ask, frowning at the teen. “Good screams?” “Yeah,” El says, leaning forward curiously. “I heard you and my dad and I asked Max and she said that sometimes bad screams and good screams sound the same and she gave me her mom’s magazine to explain it.” El’s words sink in and your face flushes a bright red. “Oh my god,” you mutter to yourself, horrified. “I started to look, but dad saw and freaked out,” she continues, a dark look coming over her face when she mentions Hopper. “That was bad screaming.” “Oh,” you mutter weakly. This was so not the direction you thought the conversation was going to go. “Y/n, what’s good screaming?” El asks, biting into a second cookie. You scrub your hand over your face - a gesture picked up from Hopper - and sigh. “Um, so basically, when two adults, two consenting adults -“ El’s nose wrinkles at the unfamiliar word. “What’s consenting?” “It means you agree to do something,” you say quickly, grateful for a question you can actually answer. El nods and continues to look at you expectantly. Okay, sex talk. That’s a thing that’s happening today, clearly. ———— “That was worse than fighting in ‘Nam,” Jim grumbles as you get ready for bed later. After you had bumbled through a very awkward talk with El, Jim had come back home much calmer. Until you explained what had caused El to seek out the Cosmo in the first place. If it hadn’t been so horrifying and embarrassing, the look on Hopper’s face would’ve been hysterical. He’d only looked even more miserable after you had insisted that they both go back and talk to El again - including an apology from Hopper - just to make sure she understood what was happening. It had been miserable and awkward and you were sure that all three of you were going to have a difficult time looking the others in the eye for a while. And now you were getting ready for bed - only sleeping for a long time, or at least a long time while El was in the house - and Hopper was complaining. “You’re such an ass, Jim,” you shake your head and roll your eyes. “That was not worse than fighting in Vietnam.” “How you you know?” Jim retorts, shooting you a stink eye. “Were you there?” You roll your eyes at him and snark back, “Obviously not, I’m not ancient.” “Ooh,” Hopper narrows his eyes at you playfully, “you’re just askin’ for it, aren’t ya?” He gives you a wolfish grin and climbs on top of you, pinning you to the mattress with his bulk. You giggle and hook your legs around his waist, heels digging into his ass. “C’mon, Hop,” you grin, “do I have to spell it out for you?” His eyes are dark and his grin is feral when he dips his head to suck a nearly painful hickey just above your breast. You toss you head back and gasp loudly. His beard scratches your skin and you know your skin is going to be red and chafed tomorrow. But then he sucks a nipple into his mouth, rolling it with his tongue, and you forget all about the possibility of sore skin. “Jim, oh my god,” you mumble breathlessly, grasping at his shoulders when one of his hands trails down your side and slides under your panties. His thumb presses against your clit and you let out a loud moan. Hopper jolts a little at the sound and suddenly looks around uncomfortably. His hand moves away and you lift your head, a little dizzy. “What? Where’d your hand go?” you mutter, blinking lazily. “Y’think the kid can hear us?” he asks quietly, looking concerned. “Oh,” you frown, “I, uh, hadn’t thought about - I guess she - because of the screams - yeah.” You fumble awkwardly for words, the entirety of the night’s earlier events slipping your mind. “Maybe we should...pause for a bit,” you suggest, trying desperately to ignore the throbbing between your legs. “Yeah,” Hopper agrees unenthusiastically. He runs his hand over his face and rolls back over to lay on his back. His erection tents his boxers and you glance down at him. Tilting your chin at him, you bite your lower lip and say, “Maybe you should hit the shower and take care of that?” “Yeah,” Hopper drawls, and then he gets a look in his eye, “she probably can’t hear us over the water running, right?” A slow smile spreads across your face when you realize what Hopper’s suggesting. “Absolutely not,” you reply, already hopping out of bed and pulling your shirt over your head. The fabric drops to the floor and you giggle when Hopper’s hands wrap around your waist. He presses a kiss against your shoulder blade. “Think we can stick to shower sex until she goes to college?” you ask breathlessly. “Gonna be a hell of a water bill,” Hopper deadpans. “But,” you counter, dragging him into the bathroom, “it’ll be worth it if we never have to hear about good screams and bad screams again.”

tag list: @0hour9am @joemhazzello @technicallykawaiisoul @loonimoonylooni @fangirlinginspace@pixiehex1985 @harleyh1989 @fingersock1 @bitch4bagels @pulplorrd @wearethebrokenones@crazyonesarethebest @thatisthemagic @thatprettymvthafvcka @daniphee @hufflepuff25@pwoperfangirl @laneygthememequeen @ayatimascd @kakyoin-cherryboy @justalittlebum@anxietysasshole @l0ve-0f-my-life @billyrussosbutt @onceuponathreetwoone @hartonsleeve-blog @ithisismyusernamebitch @daydreamerzk @coolgh0st @w0nder-marie @cainanelea @leia-saveourskins @happy-hopper @that-aesthetic-wannabe @winterxblogger @girlwiththenegantattoo@gellus-bitches @anmactireaonair @yipthegoddess @thesimsnextdoor @mybulletproofheart7 @aisling1985 @uglyshirts @groupies-do-it-better

#jim hopper #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #eleven #el hopper

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mandoalorian · 3 years

Text

I Believe In Love [Maxwell Lord x F!Reader] — Twelve: Family

Summary: When you find your calling to leave Themyscira, you venture out to the World of Man with intentions of helping and healing a very specific person’s relationship with his son. You’ve heard his voice before, but only in dreams. You’ve felt his pain and anguish and you’ve never been able to relate to anything more. But things don’t come easy for you, and they certainly don’t come easy for him either. [This series contains spoilers for WW84 and is my interpretation of what happens after the movie ends].

Warnings: THE FINAL CHAPTER! very emotional, new beginnings, bullying mention, poverty mention, abuse mention, allusions to pregnancy.

Word count: 3000>

REBLOGS APPRECIATED.

Masterlist

Previous - Chapter Twelve - Epilogue [coming soon!]

“I don’t know if I could do it,” Maxwell sighed, pacing around in anxious circles. He looked different, in his denim jeans and khaki-green cable knit sweater. It made a change from the oversized powersuits he once donned. Alistair was sat at the dining room table, colouring in, and Max was having a nervous breakdown about getting his haircut. “I’ve had the blonde in for so long.”

You smiled, running your fingers through his shaggy and unstyled hair. When it wasn’t perfectly coiffed, it was wavy and glossy, and smelled distinctly like the freshest green apples. “It’ll be okay. Think of it as washing away all the terrible things that went on in the past and starting anew. Like… turning over a new leaf.”

You made a very good point. Maxwell knew he had to suck it up and just do it. It would be okay. He didn’t have to be Max Lord anymore, and he didn’t have this television persona to live up to. His main focus now was just being a father, and that’s all that mattered. All he needed to be, was himself. Maxwell Lorenzano.

“Daddy look!” Alistair smiled, waving around the piece of paper he’d spent the morning drawing on. It was stained slightly from his breakfast, and crinkled in the corners for where he’d applied slightly too much pressure when colouring, but all-in-all, it was perfect. Maxwell took the artwork and looked closely at it. Another typical family portrait of you, Alistair and Max. But this time, Maxwell was doting brown hair, and it reminded him of his younger days when he was first starting out as a businessman. “This is how you’ll look when you come home from the salon!”

“Wow Alistair, I love it!” Maxwell praised, unable to contain his grin. He held the portrait to his face and showed it off. “What do you think?” he asked you. “Do you think I’ll look good with the brown hair?”

You giggled and nodded your head, before pressing the palm of your hand flat against Maxwell’s chest and brushing your lips against his. “You’ll look so handsome, I’m sure.”

“Ew!” Alistair cried, pulling the paper from his father’s hand as you kissed him softly on the lips. The curve of Max’s nose nudged against yours and he laughed at his son’s reaction.

“Alright,” you said, pointing your finger. “You better go. Don’t want to miss your appointment.”

Maxwell nodded and took a deep breath. “I’ll see you in a few hours.” he announced.

The second Maxwell left the house, your stomach began to twist. You’d been living at Lord manor for a month now but truthfully, it felt like a lifetime. It felt like you had always been there. You were adjusting to your new life pretty well, but this morning sickness that you had started to get was an unwelcome experience. Amazon’s never got ill, so this was brand new to you, and you weren’t enjoying it one bit.

You rubbed your stomach and took a sip of the glass of water that you’d been nursing. Sliding down to sit next to Alistair, you watched as he finished his drawing, adding a few final perfections. Once it was done, you hung it to the refrigerator and praised him for his hard work.

“Ali, why don’t you grab your shoes and we’ll have a walk down to the Smithsonian?” you smiled, grabbing your jacket that was hanging over the kitchen door.

“Ooh! Is there a new exhibition?” He enquired curiously, hopping onto his feet and fastening his shoe laces.

“I don’t think so,” you admitted sheepishly. “I have to go meet with some friends.”

Taking the bus was a new experience for both you and Alistair. Joe, Maxwell’s driver, would normally drive Alistair around to and from places. But not today. The bus was slightly smelly and the seats were sticky, but by the looks of it, Alistair was having the time of his life. He pointed out the window, grinning, and talked to you about all the different D.C. landmarks the both of you passed as you were driven into the city centre. He might have only been six years old, but that was six years of living in the world of man. You’d only been here for a month, and so Alistair could teach you a lot.

Driving past the park, Alistair gasped, and shuffled into your body. “That’s the park where we first met,” Alistair pointed. You narrowed your eyes as you took in the sight of tall green trees and shrubbery. He was right. “Do you remember that day? You were wearing an awesome superhero costume like something out of my comic books. And you wore a tiara, and I asked if you were a princess. And you scared my bullies away, and helped me look for dad.”

“I remember.” you smiled, ruffling Alistair’s dark hair.

You remembered asking Alistair what his father looked like, and the only thing the boy could say was ‘strong, cool, and the best dad in the world’. Counting your lucky stars, you were so thankful you had found your forever family. You had come so far from that moment.

“Did you ever tell daddy… about those bullies in the park?” Alistair asked you hesitantly, his voice suddenly small and timid.

You pulled off him and looked him in the eyes. “No. Why?”

Alistair paused for a moment and glanced back out the window. “I was afraid he’d be disappointed in me.”

Your heart shattered in your chest. “Ali,” you said quietly, tears threatening to prick your eyes. “Your father could never, ever be disappointed in you. You know that, yes?”

Alistair nodded his head silently.

“He loves you so much,” you continued. “And the whole bullying thing… I think he’d understand better than anyone else.”

You remembered all the visions you had of Maxwell, even seeing him as a child at one point. You remembered him wearing rugged clothes that were too small for him and how he was picked on for his broken shoes.

“Really? You think so?” Alistair asked.

“I know so,” you confirmed, pressing a kiss into Alistair’s hair. “Those bullies will never amount to anything if they continue doing what they’re doing. But you are so much better than them. Stronger. Your power lies in your heart, and in the truth, and in love.”

Alistair smiled. “You’re a real hero, aren’t you?”

“We’re all heroes.”

————

Yourself, Maxwell and Alistair loved trips to the Smithsonian. Diana always organised special access for the three of you, to go after hours when the entire museum was empty. Alistair was admiring the fish in the aquarium, when you noticed Barbara and Diana, and waved them over.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” Diana smiled.

“It was sort of an impulse thing,” you explained. “Uhm, actually, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

You pulled Diana to one side and left Barbara with Alistair. “Remember how you said ‘I owe you one’, since I like… got your girlfriend to renounce her wish and kinda helped you save the world by destroying the second dreamstone?” you grinned, trying to hold back a laugh.

Diana rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. “What are you plotting?”

“Max has been… worried, to say the least. We’re going to have to sell Black Gold and it’s a real shame because-- he worked so hard on it. We have some money and well, I haven’t exactly ran this by him yet but I was thinking about investing what we do have into the Smithsonian. Just like what Maxwell promised to do in the first place.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Diana sighed. “The gemology department is doing just fine.”

You shook your head, your smile only growing. “No Di, that’s not what I was getting at. How would you feel about… expanding the gemology department?”

“I’m not quite sure I follow…”

“I’ve heard Barbara talk about how there’s a lack of space to facilitate all the rocks and stones the Smithsonian keeps bringing in. She has a real fear that the entire paleontology department could be shut down and replaced with something else.” You sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“That’s true…”

“So what if we use the Black Gold building as an extension for the Smithsonian, and have it specialise in all these fancy rocks and gems and stones. We could transport everything over and then we could utilize the leftover funds that Maxwell has, to keep all the palaeontologists and geologists employed. Hell, with a whole new building, we could even create more jobs for people. It would also mean that we wouldn’t have to fire Max’s old employees and-- Oh Di, I just know Max would love it. He really does have a passion for gemology. And his son, Ali… he has an interest too.”

“So I heard,” Diana rolled her eyes, but, to be frank, she liked what you were getting at. An expansion wouldn’t exactly be a bad thing… “It’s a big responsibility though, and it seems you haven’t even spoken to Maxwell about it. You would get funding from the Smithsonian as an institution, yes, but… it would still be Max’s business. Do you really think he could handle that? After what happened to his last business?”

“He’s smart,” you assured her. “And he’s a good businessman. He knows all these things I couldn’t even begin to comprehend. Last time he just got unlucky. But this, this could really be something great. We have the building, and the passion, and enough money to get started. Please Diana… I know you could make this happen. Please.”

Diana spent a moment pondering the possibilities before shrugging her shoulders in defeat. “Alright,” She sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

You grinned and squealed excitedly, wrapping your arms around your half sister and squeezing her tight. “Thank you Di!” She laughed and rubbed your back before you pulled off her. “Oh, and Di… there’s one more thing.”

Diana tilted her head and gazed at you with fresh bewilderment. Looking around the museum to make sure no one was around to hear what you had to say, you leaned into the Amazon and whispered a confession you’d been keeping to yourself for the past month.

————

Maxwell sat in the chair and frowned upon seeing his reflection in the mirror. “What can I do for you?” asked the stylist as she smacked her lips on a piece of gum. Max wasn’t sure if he could really bring himself to do this, until he remembered your words. This was ‘turning over a new leaf’-- a new start and fresh beginnings.

“Uh, a trim please,” Maxwell requested before taking a shaky exhale. It was now or never, he just had to take the leap. “No, that’s not everything,” he sighed. “Could you perhaps take the blonde… out of my hair?” The question left his lips with an air of unsurity. Could one even do that? Take the colour out of hair?

“You want the colour stripped?” she asked, folding her arms across her chest. Maxwell supposed that was one way of putting it.

“Yes, I do.” he confirmed.

The stylist processed Maxwell’s words for a moment before shrugging her shoulders. “As you wish.”

As the stylist wrapped Max’s shaggy golden locks into foil, he closed his eyes. He’d come so far since the whole dreamstone debacle. His whole life had been a rollercoaster of up and down events but now, finally, things were evening out for him -- in the best way possible. He’d fallen in love and secured his family and home. The only thing he was mildly worried about, was the issue with Black Gold. But he knew that he’d somehow figure it out, especially now that he had you by his side to help him.

He’d always seen himself as an independent man. He fought hard to be as successful. He escaped his hometown, his abusive father, he ran away from poverty and was discriminated against by upper class white businessmen who told him he could never amount to anything. He proved all of them wrong. Because now, he had everything he could ever want. He didn’t need stacks of money or material possessions when he had you and Alistair. Maybe he wasn’t as independent as he once thought he was. Maybe, just maybe, he liked the company of others. He liked having you and his son around.

In his fight for wealth and success, he’d lost everything that mattered the most. But most importantly, he had lost himself. Maxwell swore that he’d never let that happen again.

As the stylist removed the silver foil from his hair, Maxwell nervously anticipated the result. His once bottle blonde hair was now a chocolate brown colour, and it reminded him distinctly of his youth. Max couldn’t help but feel like he looked younger, and he wasn’t going to complain about that.

He just hoped you liked it as much as he did.

————

“I just don’t understand why mommy is taking so long,” Alistair grumbled as he and Barbara waited outside the ladies restroom. “And why did auntie Diana have to go into the toilet with her?”

Barbara stifled a laugh. “You’re inpatient, just like your dad.”

Impatience must’ve run in the family because you were sitting on the toilet seat, tapping your food as anxiety flooded your body. You didn’t expect to be this nervous. You’d wanted a child for so long -- in fact, your whole life to be exact. But now that there was a chance of it actually happening, you were beyond terrified. Maybe it was the fact Maxwell didn’t know about your symptoms, but you knew better than to feel alone. You were never going to be alone.

“How long left?” you asked Diana, who checked her wristwatch. It was an antique from the early 1900’s, something very special and something she kept very close to her heart.

“It should be ready now.” she told you, handing you the stick you had just peed on.

“I don’t want to look.” you squirmed, covering your face with your hands.

“Wow,” Diana hummed, her jaw parting slightly when she took in the results.

“Wh-- what is it?” you asked, nervously.

“You’re pregnant.”

————

When Maxwell came home, you were shocked to say the least. His brown hair was absolutely gorgeous, and it suited him better than you’d expected. The deep shade was identical to the colour in his sparkling eyes. Jokingly, he tossed his hair and you let out a laugh.

“I was right,” you giggled, running your fingers through his locks. “So handsome.”

“I love it daddy!” Alistair cheered.

“Thanks buddy,” Maxwell grinned. “I like it too.”

Taking a deep breath, you took Max’s hand and pulled him into the living room, shutting the door behind you. It was quiet in there -- the perfect place to tell Maxwell your news. It had been a nostalgic day, and even standing in the living room reminded you of the time Max first brought you home.

“Is everything alright?” he asked you, slightly concerned. But your warm smile soon eased him. You felt the need to wrap your arms around him and envelop him into a hug. Max had taken a big step today, and you were proud of him, but now it was your moment. It was now or never.

Harnessing every ounce of confidence within you, you took his hands and looked him in the eye. “Max, I’m pregnant.”

Max’s brown eyes widened and he was completely lost for words. “I-- you-- you’re--”

“Yes.” you smiled, taking his hands and placing them on your stomach.

His shocked expression turned into an elated grin as he processed the good news. “You’re really--”

“I am.” you confirmed.

You didn’t think you’d ever seen Maxwell so happy in your life. He wrapped his arms around you and held you so tight, like he was afraid to let you go. He swore in that moment he would never leave you, or his growing family, ever again.

This was it for him.

This was the start of Maxwell Lorenzano’s new life.

————

THE END.

————

Author’s Note: “I won’t cry” she says while sobbing into her Google Docs document. Thank you all for reading I Believe In Love. It’s a story I have wanted to share with you since I saw WW84 in the theatre, and I just can’t believe it’s finally over. This fic will always have a special place in my heart. The themes and plot points mean so much to me, but not only that, I’ve had the most amazing feedback on this fic and I will honestly cherish that for the rest of my life. I poured my heart and soul into writing I Believe In Love and it honestly one of my biggest comforts. I want you all to know that an epilogue is coming and if you have any requests for these characters I have created, feel free to send them my way. I adore my Amazon Goddess!Reader and I would absolutely love to continue their story at some point in the future. If you’ve followed me on this journey over the past four months, all I can really say is thank you. I love you so so much.

————

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#maxwell lord #max lord #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #ibil

177 notes · View notes

nalgenewhore · 3 years

Text

little hands

rowan x aelin + stella luna, modern au, fluff/domestic/babysitting, word count: 2049

Aelin checked the fridge again. She knew that she had bought Stella Luna’s favourite applesauce squeeze packets yesterday when she’d gone grocery shopping with Rowan, but she couldn’t be too sure. “Rowan?”

“Yes, my darling?” he called back from the living room.

“Did you get the painting book out? The one with the dragons and stuff, it’s Stella’s favourite,” she said, pulling open the bag of mini carrots and popping a couple into her mouth. Aelin bumped the door shut and wandered into the living room, fixing the fold of the throw over the back of their couch.

Her fiancé looked at her with an adoringly exasperated expression. “Yes, I did.” Rowan stretched his arm out to point at the corner where there was a children’s table. On it, he had organised various crafts and art supplies to keep their niece occupied during the day. “Right there, darling.”

Aelin flashed him a simpering grin and Rowan huffed a quiet laugh. He got up and crossed over to her, wrapping his arm around her back. She smiled wider, her eyes flicking over his face as he tangled his hand in her golden hair and dipped her, kissing her deeply.

She hummed into his mouth and strung her arms around his neck, bending her left arm to hook her hand around her elbow. Rowan held her a little bit closer, his lips fitting against hers. Aelin let out a little noise and he groaned, moving his hands to the backs of her thighs so that he could pick her up.

Just as he did, the buzzer sounded and a wee voice crackled through, “Hello-o-o, Ash! Hello-o-o Wo!”

They broke apart and laughed, Rowan’s forehead against Aelin’s. He let her down and she rushed over to the buzzer, one hand smoothing down the back of her hair. Aelin clicked the ‘talk’ button. “Hi, kiddo!”

“Me and Daddy are here and Mr. Ribbit,” Stella Luna chirped. “Let me in, let me in!”

Aelin laughed again and pressed the button again, “Alright, Stellie, go ahead.”

They heard the door opening and then Lorcan’s deep voice, “Thanks, G.”

Faintly, Stella cheered excitedly, “El-vator, Daddy!”

“Yeah, yeah, Tiny, I know,” he grumbled. “We’ll be up soon.”

The intercom fell silent and Aelin darted into the bathroom to sweep her hair up in a ponytail, checking to make sure that Rowan hadn’t ruined her nudey-pink lipstick. She walked back out to wait, excited to spend the day with Stella.

Elide was weeks away from giving birth to her second baby and their house was a bit… busy right now. As she got deep into her nesting period, it was easier if there wasn’t a wild toddler running amok. Aelin and Rowan were more than happy to watch Stella Luna for Elide and Lorcan.

Someone knocked on the door and Aelin opened it, smiling down at Stella. “Well, hello,” she said.

Stella giggled, dressed in her favourite black jeans, red knit sweater, and the leopard print coat Aelin had bought for her. “Hi, Ash,” she said, rushing forward to fling her arms around Aelin’s knees, her frog stuffie held tightly beneath her armpit. Aelin smiled and rested her hand on the top of the little girl’s head.

She looked at Lorcan, who was passing Stella’s bag to Rowan over Aelin’s head. “Hello, Salvaterre.”

“G,” he nodded at her, his eyes glittering with joy as they dropped down to his daughter. “How are ya?”

“Not bad, better now that my favourite little gremlin is here.”

Stella Luna squealed at the nickname, always delighted when she was called such. She pushed Aelin’s legs aside and ran to Rowan, always in constant motion. Aelin shook her head and laughed, smiling softly. “So,” she turned back to Lorcan, “how is our darling Elide?”

“As she so lovingly puts it, ‘too fucking pregnant’.”

Aelin laughed, leaning against the doorframe. “What are you two doing today?”

He tilted his head to the side and lifted his hand to ease some muscle in his neck. “I am restaining the crib and getting new bottles. Elide is picking out paint samples and crying over how cute baby pyjamas are.” A loving grin tugged across his face. “They are pretty cute.” Lorcan stretched his shoulders and cleared his throat, “So, uh, you’re all set, then?”

“Yes, sir,” Aelin said. She turned to see Stella, “Honey, you want to say bye to your pops? He’s leaving soon.”

Stella gasped and bade Rowan to pull her boots off faster. In a flash, she was up, running back to Lorcan, who lowered himself into a practiced crouch. The three-year old crashed into him, her voice muffled against his shoulder, “Bye-bye, Daddy. Have good day!”

He chuckled and hugged her back, kissing the side of her head, “You too, yeah? I love you, my darling moon.”

Aelin swallowed past the lump in her throat – it was a bit much, seeing how gentle Lorcan was with Stella Luna, how much he adored her.

“Love-a you too, Daddy,” Stella said as Lorcan stood up and she hopped back to Aelin’s side.

He winked at the child, “See ya. Be good.”

“But not too good!”

Lorcan laughed and walked backwards down the hall, “That’s right, Tiny.”

Stella Luna was grinning maniacally as she pushed the door shut and spun, looking around their apartment. Aelin reached down and helped her slip her coat off, hanging it on the coat rack. “What should we do now, kiddo? We can paint or draw, or read a book and play with Mr. Ribbit.”

The toddler frowned in concentration, shifting back and forth on her feet as she decided, “Hmm… painting time! But I, I wanna real paint, no book.” She reached up to Aelin, who took her wee hand. “Time to painting time.”

Aelin laughed merrily and followed Stella as she marched towards the craft corner. They passed Rowan and Stella Luna flung her other hand out, “Come-come, Wo! I’m gon’ paint a dragon, the big dragon.”

Rowan dutifully went with his very bossy niece and sat down cross-legged. Aelin took her seat on Stella’s other side and the little girl handed them both paper and paint. She passed Mr. Ribbit to Rowan to hold him and kept standing as Aelin squeezed out paint into the plastic child’s palette.

“So, lass,” Rowan said as he picked up a paintbrush and began dotting a wildflower landscape, “are you excited for your new sibling?”

“Um, I am et-cited,” Stella answered, looking down at her paper as she squiggled purple paint across it. “I get to be big sister, Wo.”

“Well, that’s cool,” he said, smiling at her. His green eyes flicked up to Aelin and softened. She smiled back at him, her heart fluttering slightly.

For the next hour or so, they painted with Stella. The toddler was very concentrated, using every colour that she could. For one piece of art, she used blue and yellow and Rowan helped her put glitter on the paper, so it would look like Aelin’s eyes.

“For you, Ash,” Stella insisted, shoving the painting into her aunt’s face. She crawled into Aelin’s lap and gently patted her cheek, near her eye. “See, like you.”

Aelin beamed and hugged Stella tightly, kissing her round cheeks. “I adore it, kiddo. How ‘bout we let Ro hang it up to dry and he can get lunch for us?”

“Yeah!” Stella cheered, thrusting the painting over to her uncle and shaking it for him to take it.

Rowan chuckled, shaking his head, “Very nice of you to offer my services, darling.” He stood and then bent, kissing Aelin’s cheek. As he straightened, he addressed Stella, “What would her highness like for lunch?”

“A squeezie, an’... grill-cheese,” Stella told him, picking Mr. Ribbit up, “p’ease.”

“Certainly, milady.”

Stella giggled and put her frog back down, reaching for the green paint. “I am gon’ do it with my hands,” she declared with glee. As she started to turn the paint tube upside down, Stella froze and gasped, hurriedly putting the tube down again.

Aelin watched in bewilderment as Stella picked Mr. Ribbit up and walked over to the couch, putting him down and patting his soft green head. She returned and explained, “Can’t get him dirty, Mama says Mr. Rib-bit no paint.”

“Ah,” Aelin said, nodding her head. “Very smart, little one.”

She helped Stella set up the paints she would need for finger-painting and moved some things off the table so that there wouldn’t be anything crowding the young artist.

Soon enough, Stella’s hands were covered in green paint and she started on a crude imitation of a frog. Aelin fetched a wet washcloth so that she could clean Stella Luna’s hands between colours. A fierce frown furrowed the child’s cute cute face as she painstakingly applied different shades of green to the body. “Is Mr. Ribbit,” she said, patting with her fingertip.

From the kitchen, Rowan called, “Lunch is ready.”

“Ooh!” Stella Luna gasped, quickly forgetting her masterpiece and trying to charge into the kitchen.

Quicker still, Aelin caught her and lifted her up, “Oh, I think we should wash our hands first, yes? Paint doesn’t taste good.”

Stella Luna shook her head, “No, it don’t.” Her words were wise and grave, like she spoke from experience. She wiggled and her aunt set her down, herding her towards the bathroom. Stella pattered off, her feet hitting the hardwood floor in an adorable pattern. “Come-come, Ash! Wash hands!”

Aelin laughed as she trailed after Stella into the washroom, missing the green handprints Stella had accidentally left on the white walls.

In the bathroom, Stella was reaching up on her toes to get the tap. Aelin did it for her and they washed their hands until the water ran clear.

“Lunch time!” Stella Luna shouted, charging back out to Rowan. She clambered up onto a barstool and tucked her legs beneath her.

Rowan passed her a plate of grilled cheese sandwich, cut into triangles, baby carrots, cucumbers, and a squeeze packet of applesauce on the side, “Here you go, lassie.”

Stella Luna giggled at the name and her uncle’s deep brogue. She ate a carrot first and swallowed before picking up a piece of grilled cheese with both hands.

Aelin and Rowan sat down too, eating the other grilled cheese that he had made for them.

The child chattered all through lunch, talking about how she would put her frog painting up in the baby’s room and that sometimes, if she was really quiet, when she touched Elide’s belly, the baby would kick.

Rowan stood up after he was done and put his plate in the dishwasher. He went to the bathroom and Aelin waited for the bathroom door to close with its regular click. When it didn’t, she got up and wandered to the hallway, leaning to the side to peek at her fiancé. “Ro? Are you alright?”

He was standing still, looking down at the wall. “Why are there little handprints on the wall?”

Aelin looked down and saw the green prints Stella had left. She laughed softly, smiling at the preciousness of it, and turned. “Stella?”

“Uh-huh?” She looked up and climbed down, padding over in curiosity.

“Why are there little handprints on the wall?”

Stella Luna shrugged, a cucumber slice half eaten in her hand. “Because my hands are lit-tle.”

Aelin snorted and laughed again, turning back to Rowan. “Because her hands are little.”

He looked at his niece and cracked a wide grin, “I guess that explains it, doesn’t it?”

She giggled once more and twirled, “Yup!”

Rowan chuckled and walked down the hall, scooping Stella up and kissing her cheek, “That’s a pretty good explanation, little one.”

Stella Luna nodded vehemently and kicked her legs out so he would let her down. She went back to her lunch and Aelin slid her arm around Rowan’s waist, squeezing his side. “It’s water-based, you know? It’ll come off with a cloth.”

“Yeah, I know.”

The event was forgotten until a few days later, Aelin was rushing out of the bathroom, late for work, and froze, seeing the picture frame that Rowan had hung over Stella’s trail of handprints.

Beneath it, he had printed out on a little slip of paper, Stella Luna Salvaterre Lochan, 2021.

<3<3<3

an: i saw this chat post somewhere and i thought it was the cutest thing

@mythicaitt @eyllweambassador @schmlip-scribble @the-regal-warrior @ladyverena @shyvioletcat @alifletcher2012 @tswaney17 @ourbooksuniverse @flora-and-fae @thesirenwashere @queenofxhearts @maastrash @mynewdreamwasyou @cursebreaker29 @empress-ofbloodshed @b00kworm @hizqueen4life @silversprings98 @amren-courtofdreams @jadeaffliction @superspiritfestival @sanakapoor @ireallyshouldsleeprn @spyofthenightcourt @thegoddessofyou @more-espresso-less-depresso-xx @claralady @neonhellas @darlinminds @readingismyonlyhobby @gracie-rosee @myshadowsingeraz @firestarsandseneschals @elriel4life @always-in-a-daydream @jlinez @hellasblessed @mariamuses @darklesmylove @adelzd-bookblr @rowaelinismyotp @sassyhobbits @swankii-art-teacher @januarystears @flamingveritas

#rowaelin #rowan x aelin #rowan whitethorn #aelin ashryver galathynius #stella luna salvaterre lochan #isa writes #nalgenewhore

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sokkascroptop · 4 years

Text

not yet (azula x f!reader)

prompt: “You can’t look pretty and dangerous at the same time. Not yet.”

a/n: Just a short drabble from a request I got a while back! Here’s to getting me back in the swing of things around here!

@sokkaspirit thanks for reading this (and also literally just ❤️)

requests are closed now! just keep an eye out for when I’m able to open them up again!

Before moving in with Azula, Y/N didn’t make dinner often.

Well really, never.

But it became very clear, very quickly that they weren’t going to be able to survive on Ty Lee’s goodwill and take-out for long; so Y/N decided to figure it out on her own.

It was trial and error–as everything was–and she’d only given them food poisoning like, twice. But since then, she’d gotten pretty good at cooking things they liked. Soba was Azula’s favorite, and so that’s what Y/N was working on tonight.

Y/N was slicing an avocado when she could feel Azula walk in the room, quietly setting her keys on the counter with her eyes on Y/N’s back.

She paused, the knife poised just over the cutting board. “You could come and help you know.”

Azula scoffed as she walked over to stand at Y/N’s elbow. “But I love when you get all housewife-y, cooking me dinner… It’s cute. And you know I don’t like doing this kind of stuff anyways.” She waved her hands at the pot of boiling water and the mound of chopped vegetables. “What are you making?”

Y/N nodded at the bowl of buckwheat noodles.

Azula hummed. “See, you’re good to me.” She pinched Y/N's waist before hopping up to sit between the food and the sink on the counter, something she knew Y/N hated. “Soba is my favorite.”

“I know,” Y/N smiled softly. Even though Azula wasn’t the most outwardly caring person, Y/N knew that Azula had those deep down, soft feelings when it came to Y/N. She could see it in the way Azula watched her when she was doing her makeup or tying her hair up for bed. It was so domestic. Of course, Hell would freeze over before Azula would ever admit out loud that she was soft like a marshmallow when it came to Y/N, but Y/N was the opposite. And maybe that’s why they worked well together, Y/N liked to show her love not just whisper it into someone’s ear when the lights were low.

“Are you trying to get on my good side or something?” Azula smirked.

All those soft feelings Y/N was warm and fuzzy with were doused with Azula’s lilting tone.

Y/N narrowed her eyes and pointed the knife at Azula, ignoring the sliver of avocado that still stuck to the side of the blade.

Even with a knife leveled at her chest, Azula had the audacity to look cool and collected. The least she could have done was feign the terror Y/N was trying to elicit.

Azula’s grin grew and she snatched a noodle out of the bowl and slurped it down. “You can’t look pretty and dangerous at the same time. Not yet.” She added with a wink.

Y/N forcefully ignored the visible shiver that ran through her body and went back to dicing the avocado in neat little squares. She wished her tone could be as teasing as Azula’s was. “Ooh, ‘not yet’? Pray tell, when can I look pretty and dangerous?”

Azula’s eyes never left her face; she was probably basking in the flush that had spread up Y/N’s neck and over her cheeks. “You know when.”

Y/N sucked in a deep breath. “Soba first, that later.”

“Or now.” Azula jumped from the counter and stood close to Y/N, pressing a kiss to her pulse point.

Y/N nearly dropped the knife on her feet. “But the food will get cold.”

Azula reached over to turn the burners off with a flick of her wrist. “Cold soba is good.”

#azula x reader #azula fanfic #atla #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar the last airbender #avatar resurgence #avatar fic #uhhhh post and dip BYE

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dizzydancingdreamer · 3 years

Text

The Art of Losing at Mario Kart | Tony Stark

Hi my lovelies I hope everyone is having a wonderful Friday!! Please enjoy some fluffy Tony and do take care of yourselves!!

Appetizers (Tags): Fluff

Entres (Pairing): Tony Stark x F!Reader, slight Platonic!Peter Parker x F!Reader (Third Person)

Sides (Prompts): 5: “You’re small, but you’re talking loud.”

Notes: Tony says line, Requested by Anon

Word Count: 1.5k

Dinner at Dizzy’s Master List

Her hands clutch the controller so tight her fingers hurt, her eyes locked on the TV screen like her life depends on it. It kind of does. The peppy music has long stopped being fun— now it sounds like a threat. Don’t lose, y/n. She grits her teeth, leaning forward until her elbows hit her knees, eyebrows creasing together as she completes another lap.

“That’s not going to help you win, baby.” Tony snickers, posture relaxed and a sly grin on his lips.

She scrunches her eyes as she narrowly avoids a shell he launches at her. “Shut up won’t you?”

He only laughs, continuing to hold the controller like this is the most boring thing he’s ever done. It makes her vision haze with red, her skin flaming from the inside out. How is he so effortlessly good at Mario Kart? She taps down on the a button relentlessly, head cocking, veins thrumming as she approaches the red car on the screen. Maybe she spoke too soon.

“Ooh—” she taunts, tapping the button to launch the banana peel she’s been saving— “what were you saying again? Who’s not going to win?”

As she says it her smile widens, teeth flashing at the man who’s smirk has significantly dropped. Now he’s leaning forward too, elbows on his knees and lip between his teeth.

“Oh it’s on now.”

For a moment all she can hear is the rapid tap, tap, tapping of buttons. The race becomes neck and neck, the pressure building— there’s no way she’s letting him plan a whole day together by himself; she doesn’t have a death wish. She has to win—

“Hey, Tones?” She mumbles quietly, a stark contrast to her previously snarky tone.

His eyes shift in her peripheral, eyes softening slightly. “Yeah, baby?”

She bites down on her lip, swallowing lightly. “I, erm, I think I know what I want to do after this.”

His hands falter, his head turning fully to look at her. “Go on.”

—She has to win even if it means playing dirty. God he’s so easy.

“I want to celebrate my win.”

“Wait, what?”

By the time he catches on it’s too late. With his head turned she pushes the toggle forward harder, smashing the a button to accelerate past the finish line. As soon as the First Place banner flashes across the flatscreen she’s out of her seat, arms thrown high in the air, jumping up and down like a child. She doesn’t care— the fact that she won— that she beat Tony Stark, the man who plays too much Mario Kart with Peter— is too exciting. Only the spider-kid can beat this man and now she has as well!

“Did you see that! Did you? That was amazing! I can’t believe that actually worked!” She lowers her voice, deepening it to match his “Go on, baby. You actually fell for that!”

She can’t stop the giggles as they come, hunching over to steady herself on her legs.

Tony groans, falling back on the cushions behind him, the controller landing with a defeated thud beside him. “You know, you’re small, but you’re talking loud.”

She giggles harder, scampering over to the man who looks like he wants to roll his eyes at her but is too busy staring at her like a love struck puppy. Despite losing— something which everyone in the compound— no, the world— knows he hates— he still watches her with a lazy smile, holding his arms out for her. She happily accepts the invitation, climbing onto his lap warm, hands falling to his face.

“Oh you love it, you’re just a sore loser.” She scratches her fingers through the stubble on his jaw, chest bubbling with warmth when he leans deeper into her touch.

“Only because I don’t lose.” He mumbles back, eyes closing with a content sigh.

She rolls her eyes at the man, letting the easy smile creep over her features. How did she end up with the most arrogant man in New York?

“You just lost, honey.” She points out, slipping her hands up and into his hair.

Scratching at his scalp she sinks deeper into his arms. He doesn’t open his eyes, only tilts his head back to follow her hands, fully absorbed in her touch. She follows suit, leaning her head on his shoulder. She could get used to this.

“Did I, though?”

She springs back up. “Of course you did.”

Tony cracks an eye open, the arrogant smirk back on his mouth. “Maybe I let you win.”

Her heart stutter, her gut twisting— he didn’t!

She narrows her eyes, pulling her hands from his hair. “You wouldn’t dare.”

Did he?

Leaning back towards her, ducking his head to nudge against her fingers, Tony laughs. She swats his head gently, grumbling at the man. Did he let her win? He better not have— she wants bragging rights. Well, bragging rights and to not die when he decides that the planned day he won means going skydiving or something else equally ridiculous. He may enjoy heights but she certainly does not.

When she doesn’t sink her fingers back against his scalp he takes her hands in his, wrapping them around his neck and passing her a smile that appears to be more like a laugh that’s been frozen on his lips. She has to bite back her own grin when she sees it. Instead she stares at the wall behind his head, glaring at the painting to keep from looking at him and cracking— she’s too soft for him, it makes being mad impossible.

“Baby c’mon, I’m just joking.” He pleads, massaging his fingers over hers. “You won just come back.”

She flicks her eyes to his half delighted, half worried gaze, letting the smile creep into place once more. Damnit. Maybe she’s the one who’s too easy.

“You swear?”

His warm hands find her cheeks, pulling her face down to his and pressing a quick but firm kiss to her lips before mumbling. “I swear— now let me properly congratulate you for your win.”

* * * * * * * * * *

Later that day she stumbles into the kitchen, a sheen of sweat coating her heavy limbs and a dopey smile on her face. As she rounds the corner to the fridge, feet slipping on the linoleum, she bumps into a similarly happy face.

“Oh, Peter, hey kid! Haven’t seen you around these past few days.”

She holds her fist out, waiting for his knuckles to bump against hers before turning back to her original task— water. So much water.

He laughs, grabbing a cup from the cupboard and passing it to her. “Yeah, been busy with SAT’s. They’re coming up soon. I’m kinda’ worried.”

She hums and passes him a grateful look, filling her cup from the jug in the fridge. “Ah, yes— the good old days. I remember taking those. I did terribly. Aren’t you, like, boy wonder or something, though? Kid genius? I’m sure you’ll be fine.”

Eyes wide, cheeks pink, he stammers. “Oh well, no, I wouldn’t say gen—”

Rolling her eyes, she interrupts him with a laugh. “Don’t downplay yourself— you’re a genius. You’re good at everything! It’s almost annoying.”

Honestly it is annoying but he deserves— she’s seen how hard he works.

Peter laughs, awkwardly shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe.”

At least he’s humble.

She scrunches her nose, hopping up onto the counter as he opens the fridge next, pulling out a loaf of bread and the strawberry jam that Natasha has bought a few days ago. For a smart kid he really has a death wish. She nods at the jar and he holds a finger to his lips, the message clear— don’t tell. She giggles back, holding a hand over her heart— scout’s honor, boy wonder.

She kicks her feet, curling her toes to bring some of the feeling back, continuing with the conversation at hand. “Name one thing you can’t do.”

He pauses, butter knife clutched in his fist as he tilts his head, thinking. Of course he has to think about it. He’s like a mini Tony— too smart for his own good.

Finally his eyes fill with light, his brows raising as he comes to an answer— “Got it— I can’t win at Mario Kart against Mr. Stark.”

For a moment she giggles. He still calls Tony Mr. Star—

Wait.

Did he just say he can’t win against Tony at Mario Kart? No, that’s not possible—

“But I’ve seen you win.” She points out, setting her cup down a little too harshly, the glass thudding off the counter.

Peter, not noticing, laughs, shaking his head. “No, he only lets me win to impress you.” He flicks his eyes up from his sandwich, his face shifting when he sees her furrowed brows— “You didn’t know that?”

The glare on her face is enough of an answer. “Shit.”

He starts to shake his head but it’s too late; she’s already hopped off the counter, bare feet pounding on the floor as she starts storming out of the kitchen.

“Tony you have some explaining to do!”

Not long after she hears a groan followed by a—

“Not cool Parker!”

#Tony Stark #Tony Stark x Reader #Iron Man #Tony Stark x y/n #Iron man x reader #iron man x y/n #tony stark fic #tony stark imagine #tony stark fluff #iron man imagine #iron man fic #iron man fluff #peter parker #spider man #mcu #mcu fic #mcu fluff #marvel cinematic universe

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reid-me-a-story · 4 years

Text

I Need a Doctor

Based on the song “Doctor” by Jack Stauber

Synopsis: Reader is pining after her best friend, but after a drunken night and a failed attempt at seduction things start to look up for her

A/N: This is my first ever fan-fiction and WOOF was it a beast! This is based off a song that reminded me of Spencer some how, see the lyrics below!

Although this is a self insert one-shot, reader is never introduced as (y/n), I personally find it distracting in fan fiction to have to skip over that so instead of (y/n) there is use of pet names when needed. Any defining features such as height , hair colour, etc. is not specified including weight - however Spencer does pick reader up. Smut is included but if you aren’t comfortable reading it then feel free to stop about halfway through when there’s a little breaker in the story!

Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!reader* (please read content warnings!)

Category: Angst/smut[18+] (and a little bit of fluff, all around a pretty wholesome story)

Content warning: Idiots in love, unrequited love (happy ending I promise!), drinking, unprotected sex, breeding kink, oral (male and female receiving), Fingering, Swearing, use of pet names (baby, princess, Little girl), teensy bit of degradation. *Let me know if I missed any!!*

Word count: 4.2k

Lyrics: Verse: Sarah Vanessa, Jack Stauber]

I need a doctor, oh

I'm not a doctor but I think I might be able to help

It's not a simple symptom, no

My diagnosis is that no one has been treating you well

[Chorus: Sarah Vanessa, Jack Stauber]

So, what do you prescribe?

Love's the only medicine

Is this a lie?

No, take three of these a da-ay

Oh, I think I'm cured

Cool, are you alright on your own?

No, I'm not sure...

Okay

[Outro: Sarah Vanessa]

Oh, I think I'm sick again...

*gasp

After three years of pining after your co-worker and best friend you decided to try to fill the void caused but the unrequited love.

You knew you wanted to be with Spencer since your first day, however it seemed that all he wanted was a friend. You guys were close and spent a lot of time together but it never seemed to progress. You once thought about taking the reins and asking him out, thinking that maybe he was just nervous. You grossly misread that situation and thank god you didn’t ask because the next day you over heard him telling Derek about a girl he wanted to ask out.

After that you started to isolate yourself from Spencer. You loved him but he didn’t feel the same. Garcia and JJ tried to make you feel better by telling you that it would never last with this new girl. You wanted to believe it but actions speak louder than words. Not only were you keeping a bit more distance from Spencer but he seemed to be cancelling plans left and right.

While you never made any new plans you would always spend every Saturday together when you weren’t on a case. Sometimes you guys would do something as extravagant as a play or spending the day touring a museum exhibit - something you wouldn’t nearly be as interested in if Spencer wasn’t your tour guide. Other times your days would be spent watching old reruns of your favourite shows or having Spencer read to you. Those days were your favourite because listening to Spencer’s smooth melodic voice always seemed to calm you down even at your most stressed out.

Since you over heard Spencer tell Derek about this girl he wanted to ask out he’s been cancelling your Saturday plans. It didn’t bother you at first but it’s been almost 5 weeks and you’re getting quite hurt by it. He still talks to you at work or spends time with you when you are on cases and dismissed for the day but it’s not the same.

Today is Friday and Garcia came skipping through the glass doors straight for you. “Hello, my beautiful human! Since we have no case do you want to have a Girls night tonight? JJ and Emily are coming! Please come!” She begs.

You debated declining so you can spend your weekend in solitude, sulking over your best friend but the look in Garcia’s eyes made you reconsider. “Okay sure, where are we going?”

Penelope squealed “Ahh! Okay awesome! We’re going to be going to this cute little Italian restaurant and then heading next door to this bar! It has really good Yelp reviews and - OOH maybe we can get you a hunk to take home tonight and-“

That got Spencer’s attention and his head whipped up to look at Penelope. While his eyes darted over to you to gauge your reaction to Penelope’s comment, you both locked eyes. You thought you saw him silently beg you not to go out tonight but you ignored it and stood up.

Penelope was still chattering away while you were packing up so you can go home to freshen up. You really didn’t want to get set up with some random guy but it might fill the void that is still there. Once Penelope gives you an opening you ask her what time to be ready for. She tells you that she will pick you up at 7. You thank her and head home.

Once you pass the barrier to your apartment you relax your shoulders, not realizing how tense you had been all day. The dread of going out tonight started to really sink in. If you were being honest with yourself you would have loved to have spent the night sitting in silence reading a book that reminded you of anything except Spencer but instead you agreed to go out and get drunk with your co-workers. Great.

You hop into the shower and take your time drying your hair. Just as you finish putting your makeup on and getting dressed Garcia texts you that she’s outside. You throw on your jacket and slip your heels on and walk outside.

After a really nice dinner you found yourself 6 shots in at the bar next door. You were fending off a really persistent guy when your phone goes off. You notice that it’s Spencer and you’re able to use it as an excuse to get away from the guy thats hitting on you. Despite how much you want to fill the emptiness that you feel without him you don’t want to just sleep around to do it.

You step outside into the cool air and answer your phone. “Hello, Doctor” you slur

“Hey... I - I uh...” Spencer stutters. You can tell he wants to say something but instead of waiting your tipsy mind forced the words out of your mouth

“I need a Doctor” you were attempting to be seductive but based on Spencer’s reaction you figured it didn’t come across right away

“Oh my god, stay where you are I’m going now” then the call drops.

“Shit” you say to yourself. You head back in to the girls. This is the last thing you wanted. Or is it? You’ve been dying to spend time with him outside of work for weeks. It sucks that you’re drunk for it but by the time he shows up and comes inside you are absolutely buzzing with excitement.

Spencer looks around the bar quickly for you. Before he locks eyes with you, you try to take in his appearance. He looks worried, his hair is messy and his curls look like they’ve been stretched by his hands running through them. Once he looks at you his shoulders relax and he lets out a deep breath.

“Hi” he breathes once he reaches you, he looks relieved to see you look physically okay.

“Hi Dr. Reid, fancy seeing you here” you slur and reach out to touch his arm. Before you make contact though you pull back; knowing how he is about touch. He ignores that and pulls you in for a bone crushing hug.

“I was worried about you” he whispers into your hair. Your heart starts beating faster the longer he holds onto you and you bury your face in his chest, inhaling his scent. He always smells good to you, like old paper and coffee. He smells like home and you start to tear up.

He feels you shudder and pulls back and notices your tears. “Hey, hey, what’s going on are you okay? Didn’t you say you needed a Doctor?”

“Oh yea,” you whisper “ typical drunk girl crying, it’s no big deal. Aren’t you a Doctor? I just need you”

“Do you want me to drive you home?”

You shake your head “Can I stay over at your place instead?”

He looks hesitant but agrees nonetheless. You both wave goodbye to the girls and he leads you out to his car by the small of your back. When you get to the car Spencer opens the door for you and makes sure you’re buckled in before going and sliding into the drivers seat. You turn on the radio at a low volume so you don’t have to sit in the awkward silence.

Once you get to his apartment he gets out and walks around to open your door. You get out and he leads the way upstairs. You make your way inside and as soon as you pass the threshold of his front door you don’t know what to say. He’s the first to break the silence. “Do you want some water? Maybe some Tylenol? If might help you feel better”

“O-okay” you stutter. You follow him into his kitchen and take the glass filled with water from him. You take a huge sip and put the glass down.

Just when he opens his mouth to say something you blurt out the question that’s been burning in your mind since it happened, “Spencer, why did you call me?”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times before saying “It’s stupid really, don’t worry about it,” and before you’re able to respond he asks “ Do you want some clothes to change into? Might be more comfortable than what you have on”

You nod and he leaves, he comes back in a few minutes with a button up Pyjama shirt with little dinosaurs on them with matching pants. You go to walk away but he grabs your hand. You turn to look at him when he pulls you into a hug again. “I miss you” he whispers.

The admission makes your eyes prick with tears. Instead of saying anything through your scratchy throat you just nod and hug him tighter. You both stand like that for a few moments before you pull away. Your skin is on fire from his touch and you can’t stand it anymore. You advert yourself eyes from him so you don’t have to look at him trying to read your thoughts through your eyes. You’re afraid he would hear the truth in your thoughts about how much you love him.

You slip into the bathroom to change quickly and when you emerge you find Spencer standing by the bed waiting for you. When he hears the door open he looks at you and you can hear him take a deep breath. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to it” he whispers under his breath.

Trying not to break the silence too much you whisper back, “Get used to what?”

All the time in the world could not have given you the preparation to hear the next words that he chose to say.

“How effortless beautiful you look.”

“WHAT?” Your inner voice screams. Tears prick the corners of your eyes for the third time that night. “Please don’t Spencer.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t say things like that and expect me not to love you”, You say just barely above a whisper.

Spencer closes the distance between you and gently pushes a few loose strands of your hair behind your ear. You try to keep your eyes on your hands that you hold between you and Spencer but he pulls your attention to his eyes. “What if that’s what I want?”

Before you can respond he closes the final distance between you two. His lips are soft and full against yours. His hands move to your hair and yours gravitate to his shoulders. He tastes like coffee and mints and the taste is almost as intoxicating as the liquor you drank earlier in the night.

You push him back towards the bed and he sits on the end. You go to straddle him but he stops you with a hand in your waist. “We shouldn’t..”

“Oh.. y-yea, I understand” you say defeated.

“Oh god, no. Trust me. I want to- I want to so bad but you’re drunk and you’re not thinking clearly. I’ve wanted this for so long you don’t understand but I’d don’t want you to wake up and regret anything-“

You cut his rambling off with a kiss and he immediately relaxes. You pull back with a sigh and a tiny smile while nodding in understanding.

Spencer stands up, kissing your forehead before disappearing into the bathroom. You start to head out into the living room when you hear him call out “Where are you going?”

“To sleep on the couch, I don’t want to intrude.”

“The beds big enough for the both of us,” he states before quickly adding with a small blush, “I- uh- unless you aren’t comfortable with that”

You blush in return and slowly pad your way over to Spencer’s bed. You pull back the covers off your side and slide in, Spencer stretches out his long legs, reaching over and pulling you into him by your waist. You rest your head in his chest and start dozing off to the sound of his heart beating.

Just before you succumb to your sleep you hear him whisper into your head “I love you”

———

You wake up to the smell of coffee and the Saturday morning sun beaming through the windows. You go to stretch out and realize that you’re not at home but instead at Spencer’s, in his bedroom, in his clothes. Last nights confessions flood your memory and you smile to yourself. He loves you. Spencer Reid loves you.

Despite your pounding headache you can’t help but jump out of bed and pad into the kitchen. You see Spencer standing by his coffee maker. As soon as he spots you his eyes fill with something you just can’t quite place, and a small smile lights his face. You slowly step towards him and jump onto the counter, sitting right next to the coffee maker.

“Good morning” you say as softly as possible, as to not disturb the peacefulness of the morning.

Instead of answering in words, Spencer laces his fingers into your hair and pulls you forward to kiss you softly. When you both break away to replace the air in your lungs he finally speaks, “Good morning, beautiful. How do you feel? How’s your head?”

“No complaints” You joke, while winking at him.

The innuendo is lost on him for a few seconds before he laughs and says “No you dork! Your headache!”

“Ah, I’ll manage. Is there enough coffee there for me?”

“Always, anything for you”

You two drink your coffee in silence; with you playing with Spencer’s free hand, and him trying to memorize every second of this morning. Spencer finishes his coffee first and places his cup down on the counter. With his now empty hand, he starts playing with your hair, running his hands through the soft locks.

You soon finish your cup and pull him to stand in between your legs. “I think,” you say sneakily “I think I need a doctor”

“What do you mean?” Spencer asks

“Hmmm well I think you might be able to help me, Doctor” you whisper in his ear while running your hands up and down his chest. You hear his breathing start to get heavy. When your nails get close to the waistband of his sweats his breath catches in his throat and a soft moan escapes instead.

“What seems to be the problem?” He says, voice low and husky.

“Mmmm” you sigh “Well Doctor, my symptoms aren’t simple, think you can handle it?”

“I don’t think anyone has been treating you right.” He moans softly again as one of your hands start to play with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“So what do you prescribe, Dr. Reid?”

“Me.” He claims before slamming his mouth against yours. The kiss is hungry and Spencer quickly dominates it. His hand move from your hair down to you waist and the other hand moves to the front of your borrowed sleepwear, pulling at the drawstrings. You feel heat bloom between your thighs. You never expected him to be so aggressive but you loved it. You loved him, and you wanted him- now.

“Mm Spencer, please..” you moan between heated kisses.

Spencer chuckles and starts kissing down your jaw and neck “What baby? What do you need” he mumbles against your skin.

“You.” You moan breathlessly. He growls against the skin of your neck while slowly sliding his hand into your pyjamas. Once he reaches the waistband of your underwear he pulls back to look into your eyes - silently asking for consent.

“Please, Spencer. I need you! Please!” He smiles and reaches into your underwear and is fingers slide past your folds feeling the wetness from how turned on you were.

He moans when he feels you. “Oh wow baby, you’re so wet. Is this all for me?”

“Yes Spence, all for you.” You breathe out between a soft moan.

“Good. You’re mine, baby” he finally sides one of his long fingers between your folds and starts pumping his hand slowly- curling a finger up to press against that sweet spot inside of you, causing a guttural moan to leave your throat. He withdraws his hand and you whine at the loss. He gives you a look and its intensity stops any sounds from escaping except for soft pants.

He signalled for you to lift your hips and he pulled you towards the edge of the counter. He pushed your knees apart and kneeled down. The sight of Spencer looking up at you between your legs almost made you finish right there and then - you let out a low groan. He chuckles and moves forwarded starts nipping at your inner thigh, never taking his eyes off you.

He kisses everywhere except where you want him. Whines escape your mouth before you can stop them and you can feel him smile against your leg. Finally showing you a little bit of mercy and finally licked a thick stripe up in between your folds. Spencer lean out a low moan against your sex, “You taste so good, baby”

Your back arches and you throw your head back. Your breathing picks up and one of your hands grip his hair. You tug on his Chestnut curls - hard “Spencer, please! more… fuck - please!”

“What do you need princess?”

“You, Spence! Pl - uhh - Please!” You scream at him.

“Anything for you,” he adds, before adding two fingers in the mix. He thrusts his fingers in and up towards that spot inside you while flicking his tongue over your clit. Your eyes roll back and you let out a deep moan. You never thought that your best friend, the man who is perpetually awkward around women would be this good. Looking down towards him you see that his eyes haven’t left you - its like he’s trying to memorize every movement your body makes. The knowledge of Spencer watching you come undone combined with the pleasure coursing through your veins sends a wave of euphoria crashing over you.

“Fuck!” You scream out as you ride out your orgasm, one of the most intense of your life if you’re being honest. When you finally come down and try to catch your breath you look down towards where Spencer is and his eyes are wide while staring at you.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful, baby” He jumps up and crashes his lips on yours and you can taste yourself on his lips and tongue. You moan into his mouth and reach down towards the waistband of his sweats pulling them down with his boxers. You watch his cock spring up and slightly gawk at the size of him. He’s bigger than anyone you’ve been with and you tell him as much. Before he can respond you jump down off the counter while pushing him towards the wall beside you so he has some sort of support.

You lick a thick stripe from the base of his shaft before leaving a small kiss to the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum. You take the head into your mouth and hollow out your cheeks while taking more in. What you can’t fit in your mouth you pump with your hand.

You look up at Spencer through your lashes; he’s looking back down at you, with his hand balled into a fist pressed up against his mouth. You hate that he’s silencing himself from you so you reach up and grab his hand to place it at the back of your head - giving him permission to fuck your face at his pace. He’s trying to be gentle but after a few strokes with you hollowing your cheeks he can’t help but buck his hips further into your mouth - causing you to gag. You swallow around him and he slides deeper. Your nails are digging into his thighs leaving ten, small angry red crescent moon indents behind. He thrusts slightly deeper causing you to gag and tears to slide down your face, “come on baby, I know you can take me deeper”

At the sound of his voice you hum, causing his hips to buck into your mouth again. “Fuck!” He pulls out and continues “Don't wanna cum there. I wanna fill you up baby. Do you want that? Do you want me to fill that tight little cunt up?”

You moan and nod excitedly and Spencer grips the back of your thighs, signalling you to jump. He carries you into the bedroom with you laying kisses and leaving marks over his jaw and neck. You find a sensitive spot just below his ear that causes his breath to get caught in his throat. Once you both enter the room he places you gently on the bed, climbing in-between your legs and kissing your lips and down towards your neck. He starts to unbutton your pyjama shirt while leaving small red and purple love bites over your neck and chest. Once he finally removed the last article of clothing on you he takes a step back to admire your body. Usually this would cause you to be self-conscious; meaning you would usually cover yourself with your hands or a blanket. Something in Spencers eyes calmed you and made you relax. He made you feel beautiful just by the look in his eyes - and he said so in just as many words, “ You’re so beautiful baby, do you know that?”

“Please Spence, I need you inside me! I need you to fuck me right now or else I might die…” You whine

“Well, we can’t have that” He chuckles. Spencer pulls off his t-shirt and kneels in-between your legs, pulling one over his shoulder, one hand on your thigh and the other on your waist, He thrusts in and bottoms out completely - causing you to yell out in surprise. “You make such pretty noises baby… how many more can I get out of you, huh?”

Spencer sets a brutal pace, thrusting into you deeper than you thought was possible. Your hands desperately try to grab anything to hold on to. One settles on the hand gripping your waist tightly, surely leaving bruises that you could only hope would last. Your other hand reaches forward - scratching your nails down his chest and leaving red welts behind in its wake - causing Spencer to let out a guttural moan. He leans forward, dropping your leg to his elbow to relieve the pressure, and kisses you deeply. His hand leaves your waist and he presses his thumb to your bundle of nerves, pressing slightly and rubbing small circles over it. “ I want you to come for me baby. come on little girl, you can do it”

You couldn’t defy him even if you wanted to. Your body gave into his wishes and crashed into the wall at full speed. Spencer kept the same pace as he fucked you though your orgasm. “Oh what a good girl. come on baby, one more for me…”

“One mo-ore? Spenc-! Fuck!”

“Yes, one more beautiful. Fuck- I know you can do it baby. One more and I’ll fill you up with my cum. You’d - fuck!- like that, huh? You’d like - ugh - to be my dirty… little …cum-slut… wouldn’t you?”

Your eyes rolled back at his words. You could barely believe what you were hearing. His words sent you over the edge for your third and final time. Your entire body shuddered from overstimulation and pleasure. Spencer moaned loudly and you felt him twitch inside you, his cock painting your walls with his cum. Just as he starts to pull out you reach forward and beg with wide eyes “No! Stay! I want you to keep it in me, please Spence, please! I need-“

He cuts you off with a kiss and presses back into you, holding you as close as he can - trying to follow your wishes. After a few minutes he started to soften, he slowly pulled out of you despite your protests. He shushed you with a few quick kisses to your lips and quickly ran to the washroom to get a damp washcloth. He wiped between your legs as gently as he could without overstimulating you too much.

Spencer flopped down beside you, grabbing you and pulling you into his side. He starts slowly kissing your lips, cheeks, forehead - really anywhere his lips could reach without having to let go of you. You giggle a little bit as he gets to a ticklish spot on your neck. “Well Doctor, I think I’m cured. I guess you were right, I just needed you”

“And three orgasms,” he deadpanned.

You both laugh a little at that. You look at him and that same look is in his eyes from before. You’re finally able to place it. “I love you, Spence.”

His eyes shine a little brighter and he leans forward to rest his forehead against yours. “I love you more, beautiful girl”

110 notes · View notes

feralthoughtdump · 3 years

Text

Sign of The Times

Part One: Kiss With A Fist

Part Two: Only Angel

Part Three: Arsonist's Lullaby

Bucky and his Angel’s time in Riga is coming to an end and possibly their little fling.

CW: violence, slight angst, John Walker being rude, fluff, slight smut, nightmares, slight allusions to religion and maternal trauma, crying, Sign of The Times by Harry Styles, time jump

Word Count: 6.6k

Angel wakes up next to Bucky and her heart is filled with regret.

No, not regret over the sex, rather what happened after the sex.

You’re the only one who’s made me feel human.

Why did she say that? Why did she admit to that?

She hopes that he didn’t hear her. She hopes that he’ll forget what she said to him.

Never in her life, even after the sex that she’s had, had she ever admit to something so stupid. Something so personal.

But then again, she’s never had sex with someone like Bucky until now.

He’s made her feel something. He’s made her feel full in more ways than one.

He’s made her feel good, and never in her life, has anyone made her feel good.

Bucky stirs next to her, pulling her body close to his.

He’s warm, and his embrace makes her feel warmer.

She turns around, careful not to wake him, so she can see his face.

She can’t stop thinking about him. He had managed to crack the hard shell that was ingrained into her. He had managed to reach into her and pull out someone else. Someone she was unfamiliar with.

Someone human.

Thirteen years ago, when she would study the blurry images that were put in front of her, She would have assumed that they were cut from the same cloth. But now? As he is lying right next to her, holding her in his arms, they couldn’t be more different.

Bucky killed because he didn’t have a choice. He wasn’t in control.

But her? That wasn’t the case. Violence was a part of her. It ran through her blood.

She needed it like a shark needs to swim.

As for you, you seem to have this, how do I say it, a compulsion to kill. It will always stick to you.

She thinks about Zemo’s words and a bitter taste fills her mouth.

He’s right. She was ruled by anger and compulsion.

She knows that when this is over, she would go back to killing. She wouldn’t be able to stop no matter how hard she wanted to.

Bucky’s metal hand clasps over hers, pulling her from her thoughts.

“What are you thinking about sweet Angel?”

She quickly paints on a smile and kisses him.

“Nothing, Buck. Just admiring you.”

How could she, a monster, have pulled a man as good as him, she thinks, staring into his bright, blue eyes.

“Well, I’ll lie here and admire you too.” He smiles.

His words improve her mood, practically melting her stress away. He doesn’t mention her confession at all and it fills her with relief.

She basks in his warmth and gentle gaze until a knock on the door startles them.

“Alright lovebirds, it’s half-past ten,” Sam remarks. “We’ve got some work to do.”

Angel smiles and gives Bucky one final kiss.

“I’m going to get dressed. So get out.”

She closes the bedroom door and sits in front of the mirror, quietly dabbing concealer around her under eyes. Her tongue slightly pokes out from between her teeth as she meticulously fills in her brows. She turns her head to the side and grins.

“Pretty.” She whispers to herself.

Pretty made her feel nice. It made her feel sweet. Feeling pretty made her feel slightly less monstrous.

As she twirls in front of the mirror, she grins at her appearance. Sure, the pink puff-sleeved dress was obnoxious and the volume and ruffled hem made it slightly impractical, she thought it was lovely. A cute little number she bought the second she saw it in a store window in Paris. A reward for herself. A little ‘good job’ gift after her twenty-fifth kill.

It almost made her look angelic.

She grabs her white heeled boots and opens the door, lacing them up as she hops through the entrance.

“Nice dress.” Sam notes, peering at her outfit.

“Really?” Angel grabs a Turkish Delight from the counter and pops it into her mouth. “Thanks. I got it in Paris.” She chirps.

“You’re in such a good mood today,” Sam mutters. “Does it have anything to do with your wild night with Bucky?”

Bucky chokes on his water and coughs.

“You heard us?”

“Of course I did. You two need to learn how to control your volume.”

She walks over to the couch and sits down, the dress poofing around her.

“Bucky needs a good lay anyways.” She ties the laces of her boots into a bow. “It’s good stress relief.”

The sun casts a colorful light onto the floor and Angel admires him, bathed in reds, blues, and greens.

“Well, I saw a crepe place nearby.” She stands from the couch, balancing on her boots. “I’ll be back soon.”

…

Sam and Bucky were deep in conversation when she walks through the door, a bag of crepes in tow.

“Something’s not right about Walker.” Bucky says.

“You don’t say.” Sam replies.

“Well, I know a crazy one when I see one.” Bucky looks down at his plate. “Because I am crazy.”

“Oh hush.” Angel giggles, passing him a box of crepes. “You’re a little rough around the edges but that doesn’t mean you’re crazy.”

Zemo chuckles and leans against the dresser, a glass of whiskey in his hands.

“You’re an assassin who kills with no hesitation”

“Baron, just because I kill with no hesitation doesn’t mean I’m crazy.” She laughs, placing another box in front of him. “I’m able to stay cool and calculated and need I remind you, it’s my job.”

She walks past Sam and hands him a box. He mutters a quick ‘thank you’ and shuts his laptop closed.

The four of them have a long-overdue debrief of the events that happened the day before. They go over what went wrong, and what went right.

When the conversation shifts to the serum, the mood changes.

“Hypothetically, if you were offered it,” Zemo asks Sam, “Would you have taken it?”

“No.” Sam says.

“No hesitation,” Zemo notes. “Impressive.” He turns to Angel. “What about you?”

“No.” She sets her fork down. “I don’t like the idea of becoming, you know, more of myself.”

“What do you mean by that?” Bucky questions.

Her mood is quickly soured when John Walker kicks his way through the door.

“Alright.” He commands. “That’s it. I’m ordering for you to turn him (Zemo) over.”

“Here we go again.” She mutters, standing up to pour herself a tumbler of whiskey.

“Hey,” Sam stands up. “Slow your roll. Shield or no shield, the only thing you’re running is your mouth. Now, I had Karli and you overstepped. He’s actually proven himself useful yesterday. And we need all hands on deck for whatever’s coming next.”

“And what exactly has Princess Peach over there done to help?” John scoffs. “How does strutting around Latvia in her little outfits and playing with knives help?”

“Hey!” Angel snaps. “Shut your mouth. At least I have more than one outfit to wear while sauntering around Europe.”

John speeds over to her and raises his hand, but she catches his wrist.

“Ooh,” she chastises. “Hitting women, huh? Not very Captain America of you.”

Bucky stands from his seat and crosses his arms.

“Don’t you dare touch her, Walker.” He seethes.

“I can hold my own, Buck.” She narrows her eyes. “Step away John, or I’ll break your fucking wrist.”

“Listen here, John.” Sam walks over to him as John pulls his arm from Angel’s grip. “She’s been helpful this entire time, keeping an eye on Zemo, helping us track down Karli, and defending us when our lives were put at risk. Yet, you’ve been nothing but hostile to her. If you want us to work as a team, I expect you to at least show her some decency.”

She bites the inside of her cheek, trying to push away her anger. All she wanted was to punch him in the face, maybe stab him in the neck, but she knows she shouldn’t. At least not when Bucky and Sam are around.

“Thanks, Sam.” She mumbles.

“If a fight is what you want, why don’t I put down the shield huh?” John fumes. “Make this fair.”

As the shield touches the ground, a spear whizzes past Angel, the momentum fluffing the edge of her dress.

She turns around to see a woman clad in red.

The Dora Miaje. She’s heard the stories about them. The female warriors of Wakanda who had fought the titans after the blip.

Angel had always been one to prepare for any outcome, but this? She wasn’t expecting this. Not that she didn’t mind.

Her head whips around as two more walks past the doors, brandishing spears.

One speaks in Wakandan, and Bucky looks down in shame.

She may not understand her, but she knows that they were not happy with him.

“Release him to us now.” The woman demands.

“Bucky?” Angel turns to look at him. “What did you do?”

He doesn’t answer her, he only looks at the table, avoiding her eyes.

She sighs and takes a sip of whisky, scowling at the taste.

“Hi. John Walker.”

Angel quirks a brow as he walks up to the Dora Milaje, holding out a hand. He receives no handshake nor a verbal reply.

“Well, uh,” John holds out his arms. “Let’s put down the pointy sticks and we can talk this through, huh?”

“Hey, John, take it easy,” Sam says, a frustrated smile on his face. “You might want to fight Bucky before you tangle with the Dora Milaje.”

John rolls his eyes.

“The Dora Milaje don’t have jurisdiction here.”

Angel internally winces. She may not have expected this, but she knows this won’t end well.

“The Dora Milaje had jurisdiction wherever the Dora Milaje find themselves to be.”

“Okay.” John scoffs. “I think we got off on the wrong foot.”

“John,” Angel warns. “You really should shut up right now.”

Her warning falls on deaf ears as he places his hand on the woman’s armor.

Within the blink of an eye, a fight ensues.

She observes from afar, deciding it was best that she doesn’t involve herself.

Her drink is placed on the counter as she walks over to Sam and Bucky.

She stands back with an amused look while John faces off with the Dora Milaje.

Sounds of clanging metal and fighting echo throughout the room.

“Do I have your permission to join them? Any excuse to fight Walker is a good excuse.”

She whispers to Bucky.

“Best you stay out of it and enjoy the show.” He whispers back.

Sam turns to them.

“We should do something.”

“Looking strong, John” Bucky yells over the fighting and Angel claps a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Bucky.” Sam scolds.

In the corner of her eye, she spots Zemo reaching for his coat.

He’s making a run for it. And she’s not letting him get away.

Before the doors of the bathroom close, she wedges her foot in between them.

“You’re not going anywhere.” She glares at him.

Zemo sighs.

“I really liked you. So please don’t take this personally.”

He pulls her through the doors as they close and slams her head against the edge of the tub.

She tenderly touches her forehead and winces.

“You son of a bitch.”

“I need to visit my home.” He says as dark spots form in her vision. “Just one last time. I hope you understand.”

All she can do is lie there, head on the tile, as her vision fades to black.

…

She wakes up with a concerned Bucky hovering over her.

“Oh, doll,” He murmurs, brushing his fingers over the developing bruise on her forehead. “I shouldn’t have strung you along.”

“It’s okay, Bucky.” She murmurs, pain rushing through her head.

“Now I’ve dragged you into this… this mess-”

“Hey, hey.” She sits up and cradles his face in her hands. “If I didn’t want to be here, I would’ve gone back to Amsterdam right after what happened in Madripoor.” He looks down, refusing to meet her eyes. “Bucky,” She lifts his chin with her finger. “Look at me. I’m here on my own accord. I want to be here. With you.”

Sam walks over to them and hands her a wrapped ice pack.

“Are you okay?” He asks.

“Yeah, yeah.” She accepts it and places the cool towel against her head. “What time is it? How long was I out?”

“For a few hours,” Sam answers her. “You hit your head really hard.”

“What’s next, what else do you need me to do?”

“No,” Sam shakes his head. “You aren’t going anywhere. You need to rest.”

“I’m fine.” she stands but Bucky places an arm on her shoulder, pushing her back onto the bed. “Guys, I let Zemo get away, I need to-”

“Hey,” Sam crouches down next to her. “I meant what I said, about you being helpful. And Zemo getting away isn’t your fault. Stay here and rest. I just don’t want you to be putting yourself in danger.”

“He’s right.” Bucky agrees. “You need to take care of yourself, doll.”

“I can handle it.” She struggles against Bucky’s hold on her. “I promise. I’ll make it up to you.”

“Hey,” Sam places his hand gently on her forearm. “We don’t know if you had a concussion, but concussion or no concussion, we’re not letting you endanger yourself.”

She lies back down on the bed and shuts her eyes, giving in.

“Fine. Just don’t get hurt.”

…

She lies there for what feels like hours, staring at the ceiling, reading her book, drawing in her sketchbook. But when she turns to the clock, it’s only been twenty minutes

She’s bored. And nothing good comes out of being bored.

You’re the only one who’s made me feel human.

God, why did she say that?

Why was she feeling this way?

Despite their hostile reunion

An angel? Sure. But not the angel Bucky thinks she is.

She wasn’t like the beautiful angels hanging in the Louvre. Ones who brought peace and lights. She was the angel the world had painted her to be. One of death, rage, and destruction.

How could he ever see her as an angel? How could he show her this gentle, tender love that no one else has?

Does he love her?

Does she love him?

“Love.” She mutters to herself. “Such a funny word.”

She doesn’t even know what love is. How could she know what Bucky has been showing her is love? The gentle touches, calling her Angel, holding her close when they fall asleep. That was love, right?

Deciding that her thoughts have gone too far, she reaches into her bag to find an orange bottle of sleeping pills. She changes out of her dress and reaches for Bucky’s dark red henley that was bunched up on the floor.

Her nose buries into the fabric as she inhales his woodsy smell.

With a sigh, she pulls it over her head and walks to the bathroom to wash off her makeup.

Her fingers roll the pale pink pill between her fingers. Deciding whether or not sleep was worth it.

Finally, she just decides to take the pill, swallowing it dry and a grimace crosses her face at the bitter taste.

She lies down, covered in Bucky’s smell, and closes her eyes.

…

Angel doesn’t know where she is.

Well, she does. The house is still the same, only this time, it was up in flames.

Screams echo around her.

“Look at what you’ve done!” They tell her, voices distorted.

“Monster!”

“Devil!”

“Evil!”

She turns around to face a woman in a black dress, her face obscured by a matching veil.

“Oh, my dear.” She says, voice croaking and broken. “Why didn’t you save me? Why did you leave me there to die?”

“I-” Angel stammers. “I’m sorry.”

The woman sinks to the ground and Angel runs after her, crouching down to see where she went.

When she stands, she sees that she’s surrounded by broken mirrors.

No matter where she looked, she was faced with her distorted reflection.

“Look at yourself!” The voices return. “Look at what you are!”

“No!” She screams back. “No! No! No!”

A force knocks her onto her knees and she sees that the floor has turned into a mirror as well.

The fire burns her, making her skin peel.

She claws at her face, trying to peel the reddening skin away and she scrambles back when it reveals the cracked gray skin.

“This is who you are!” They scream.

“Stop!” She sobs. “Shut up!”

Angel looks down at her hands, fingernails growing into long black claws. When she looks up, she screams at her appearance.

Her soft, glowing skin and peeled away to reveal a pale, ghostly face. Her eyes, once bright, are now pools of black.

“You’re a monster!” A different voice booms throughout the room.

“Mama?” She whimpers. “Mama, is that you?”

“You were always the bad seed. You were always filled with darkness. Evil.”

“No Mama!” She cries. “Mama, please! I’m sorry!”

The mirrored floor cracks around her.

“I never wanted you! I should’ve killed you the second you came out of me!”

Angel scrambles around the mirrored room, avoidant the cracks around her feet.

"And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea,”

“Stop!” Angel covers her ears.

But her mother’s voice is louder “having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy."

“Angel?”

“Please stop!” She begs her mother.

“Angel! Wake up!”

“Angel!”

She screams, batting her arms, trying to push anyone and anything out of her path.

“Get away from me!” Her voice is hoarse from screaming. “I’ll only hurt you.”

“Angel,” Bucky places his metal hand against her heated skin. “Angel, you’re okay, you’re safe. You aren’t going to hurt anyone.”

Tears stream down her face as she meets Bucky’s gentle, blue eyes.

“Bucky?” She shakily whispers.

“Yeah, it’s me. It’s Bucky.” He gently rubs at her cheek with his thumb. “You were having a nightmare.”

She reaches out with a shaky hand and places it against Bucky’s cheek, rubbing at his stubble.

She needed to know he was actually there. She needed to know that he was real.

As her sleep-clouded vision clears, she sees the bruises and cuts on Bucky’s face and she starts crying again.

“Oh, Bucky,” She pulls her hand away. “Did I do this to you?”

“No, no you didn’t, doll.” He gently smiles at her and presses a soft kiss to her forehead.

“Then who did this to you?” She whispers.

“Sam and I had to get the shield back. John decided to get a little scrappy but I’ll be okay.” He moves her sweaty hair out of her face. “I have enhanced healing, remember?”

Angel gives him a shaky nod and burrows her face into his chest.

A loud sob leaves her lips as she shakes in his arms.

“Oh doll,” he coos at her, reaching his flesh hand under her (well his) shirt and tracing his fingers up and down her back. “Shh. It’s okay, honey. You’ll be okay.”

When her sobs subside and she’s left a shaking form in his arms, Bucky presses a kiss on the top of her head.

She looks up and sees Sam peaking at them from over his shoulder.

He’s got a look of sympathy in his eyes.

“Nightmare?” He asks.

Her throat hurts too much to speak so Bucky answers for her.

“Mhm.”

Sam walks over to them and places a glass of water on the nightstand.

He takes a seat next to them and places a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Angel shakes her head. Talking wasn’t what she wanted. She didn’t want to burden them further.

“Sam?” She quietly asks. “Can I have a hug?”

“Of course.”

Sam wraps his arm tightly around the both of them and rubs Angel’s back.

“I don’t know what you’re dealing with, and I don’t know what you’ve gone through, but I just want to let you know that it’s okay to feel weak.”

He gives Bucky a gentle look.

“I’m, uh, I’m headed back to Louisiana in a few hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

Sam gives Bucky a soft pat on the back and turns to Angel.

“And if you ever need to talk, I’m here for you. So is Bucky.”

When Sam leaves, the crying returns. She’s much too tired to sob, but silent tears stream down her face, wetting Bucky’s soft t-shirt.

“Come on, doll. Let’s sleep.”

She vehemently shakes her head. Not wanting the nightmares to return.

“No, no.” Her breathing quickens. “I- I don’t want to. I’m scared.”

“Okay, okay.” He strokes her back. “Let’s just stay like this for a while.”

They sit in silence, holding onto each other. She feels vulnerable, weak, and tired. Oh, so tired. All the years of building up her walls, pushing people away, destroying anything good in her path, had finally caught up to her.

She wants to strip her skin away and emerge as a new person. She wants to open up her body. Take out all of the ugly, the evil, the darkness, and stitch herself back up. She wants to destroy herself.

And maybe, after she pays the price in her own blood, she can finally be good.

This world wasn’t made for her, she thinks, and though she gave up on faith a long time ago, she thinks that after all the things she’s done, she’ll never end up in heaven.

And having Bucky here? Having him hold her, and caress her, and call her his Angel?

That was the closest to heaven that she’ll ever get.

Bucky pulls her back to reality when he lifts her chin up.

“I have an idea.” He smiles. “Now, I haven’t done this since 1943, but why don’t we dance?” He helps her stand up and brushes her hair back.

Angel looks away from him bashfully.

“I- I don’t really know how to dance.”

“Here.” He hands her his phone, Spotify open on his screen. “You pick the music and I’ll show you how. It’s really easy.”

“Should it be a 40s song?” She mumbles.

“No.” He smiles and shakes his head. “It can be any song that you like. I just wanna make you feel better, doll.”

She quietly browses through his song library and then, turns to the search bar.

“Here you go,” she hands it back to him. “I think you’ll like this one.”

“Sign of the Times.” He chuckles. “Can you dance to it?”

She shrugs.

“I hope so.”

Bucky places his hands on her waist and pulls her close to him.

“Okay, Angel, so I’m just going to hold your right hand like this.” He intertwined his right hand with hers and raised it to his shoulder. “And your left hand goes on my life shoulder.”

As she places her left hand against the metal of his shoulder, Bucky keeps his left hand on her waist.

“Now what?” She quietly asks.

“Now, we just sway.”

He quickly unlinks their fingers to press play on the song.

As the sounds of a piano fill the room, Bucky starts swaying and Angel follows along.

Just stop your crying

It's a sign of the times

Welcome to the final show

Hope you're wearing your best clothes

“You were right, I do like this song.”

“You do?”

“Mhm.”

You can't bribe the door on your way to the sky

You look pretty good down here

But you ain't really good

If we never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets

Angel closes her eyes and allows herself to rest her head on his chest. Even with the music playing, she can hear the quiet thumping of his heart. It calms her. She relaxes her shoulders and smiles, humming along to the song. Bucky holds her tighter as the chorus approaches.

Just stop your crying

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away from here

Just stop your crying

It'll be alright

They told me that the end is near

We gotta get away from here

Just stop your crying

Have the time of your life

Breaking through the atmosphere

And things are pretty good from here

Remember everything will be alright

We can meet again somewhere

Somewhere far away from here

Peace. She feels at peace in Bucky’s arms. He is her sanctuary and she hopes that she can be his.

We never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets

We never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets

She hopes that this won’t be temporary. She hopes that this moment can last forever, being held by him.

Just stop your crying

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away from here

Stop your crying

Baby, it'll be alright

But even though she can hope, she knows it won’t last forever. Bucky, this man, this man who is filled with good, even with all he’s been through, never let that good fade away. He will see her for who she truly is, how she was never good. He will see how she was born with darkness and he will see how the darkness overtook her.

They told me that the end is near

We gotta get away from here

We never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets

We never learn, we been here before

Why are we always stuck and running from

The bullets?

The bullets

We don't talk enough

We should open up

Before it's all too much

Will we ever learn?

We've been here before

It's just what we know

“I’m…” Her voice wobbles. “I’m a monster.”

“You’re not a monster.” He places a kiss on the top of her head. “You were never a monster.”

Stop your crying, baby

It's a sign of the times

We gotta get away

We got to get away

“I’ve killed a lot of people, Bucky.”

“So have I.”

We got to get away

“But you didn’t have a choice. I did.”

We got to, we got to, away

The music comes to an end and Angel pulls Bucky over to the bed.

“Have you ever thought about what you’ll do after you stop?” He asks her. “You know, when you retire, I guess.”

She sighs.

“I’m not sure. I have enough money to live a quiet life in Paris. That’s the closest I have to a retirement plan.”

“When will that be?”

Angel lies down.

“I’m not sure.”

Bucky braces his arms around her head.

“We’ll figure it out. Okay?”

“Okay.” She pulls him in for a heated kiss. “But first, I want to feel you.”

Her hands cradle his face and she kisses every cut and bruise on his face.

“My sweet Angel. You’re too kind to me.”

He litters kisses down her neck, onto her collarbones, down her sternum, and onto her scar.

“So beautiful. So, so beautiful.” He murmurs.

Angel cards her hands through his soft hair as he rests his head on her lower stomach.

She giggles when he nuzzles at her tummy.

“Tickles.”

“Can’t help it. You look so pretty in my shirt. I just want to make you feel pretty.”

He places his fingers along the waistband of her panties.

“Can I?”

“Mhm”

As he pulls them down her legs and kisses along her thighs, she reaches out with her free hand and links her flesh fingers with his metal ones.

He’s gentle with her this time.

She can’t speak, only gasping his name. She arches her back and pushes her hips closer to him, silently begging for more.

Instead of teasing her, he gives her what she wants. Never forced her to beg.

He handles her delicately like she’s made of glass.

He calls her sweet names, doll Angel, honey, as he licks into her. Her moans are soft and sweet.

He coaxes an orgasm after orgasm out of her and she lays back, relishing in the pleasure, in the love he gives her.

It feels like heaven.

He feels like heaven.

And when he unbuckles his belt and pushes inside of her, he is still gentle, slowly rocking himself back and forth.

Though she’s still sore from the night before, the pain never overpowers the pleasure.

She wraps her legs around his waist, pulling him closer, silently telling him that he is hers and much as she is his.

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” He groans into her neck. “I never stopped thinking about you.”

“I can’t stop thinking about you too.” She pants. “You make me feel human. You’re the only one who’s made me feel human, Bucky.” This time, she wants him to hear her. She wants him to know.

The skin on skin contact, feeling his body pressed against hers, it’s all everything she’s ever wanted. It’s everything she’s ever needed.

“You’re mine.” He rocks his hips faster. “You're my Angel. Say it to me.”

“I’m yours. I’m your Angel.”

She doesn’t think she can cum one more time, but she does. Walls clenching around him, making him gasp with pleasure.

“I’m…” he murmurs against her lips. “I’m gonna cum.”

She presses her lips against his.

“Come on, cum for me, my love.”

…

Bucky quickly fell asleep. Tired from the fighting and tired from the fucking.

Angel spends the rest of the night caressing his face and playing with his fingers.

They spent only a few days together but she’s been able to fall for him in this short time.

Though she doesn’t know what love feels like, she thinks she loves him.

Being with him, it’s changed her.

She knows that she’ll eventually have to leave, go back to Amsterdam. He’ll go back to New York.

They will be apart again for who knows how long.

But she doesn’t want that to happen so now, all she can do is live in the moment, and pretend that they can live in this moment forever.

“I love you.” She whispers. “I love you, James Bucky Barnes.

…

On the drive to the Sokovia memorial, they’re quiet. But it’s a comfortable silence. They listen to Bucky’s 40s music and admire the scenery.

She’s decided that she doesn’t want to kill anymore. At least not kill as much.

She’ll settle down somewhere. Somewhere on her own. In her fantasies, it would be with Bucky, but realistically, she thinks, it’s best that she’s on her own.

“I’ve been thinking, when this is over, we’ll go back to Amsterdam.” He says, breaking the silence “You can pack all of your things and you can stay with me. In Brooklyn.”

Her heart stops. He wants to go home. He wants to go home and take her with him.

“I’ve never been to New York.” She says over the sound of Dream A Little Dream of Me.

“I’ll show you around.” He turns to look at her. “We can start a new life together. I- I know someone you can talk to. Someone who can help you work through whatever you’ve been through.”

It’s too good to be true. Yet every part of her urges her to accept his offer.

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“You don’t need to give me an answer now, and you don’t have to come back with me immediately, but know that I’ll be waiting for you.”

She sighs.

“Bucky, you have so much in you. You have all this love, this kindness, this goodness. I don’t want to be the person that ruins it all for you.”

He pulls the car over.

“Sweet Angel,” he caresses her face. “You could never do that. You-“ he looks down and takes her hand. “I believe that you have the same good inside of you. You just don’t know it yet.”

She looks away at him, eyes finding the memorial in the distance. Maybe he’s right. Maybe she does have that goodness inside of her. She just needs time to find it.

“You sound so sure of yourself.”

“I am sure. Yes, you actively chose to kill, but the people you killed? They aren’t good people. They’re people who had no qualms about harming others to get their way. Do I agree with killing them? No, but you did what you thought was right.”

She shakes her head.

“It’s not the fact I kill people for money that makes me a bad person, Bucky. It’s what I did that got me that job.”

“So what did you do then?”

Angel gulps, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“I don’t remember much because I was a kid. I… I don’t really like talking about it.”

“Hey,” He tilts her head towards him. “Look at me.”

She averts her gaze, shame bubbling inside of her.

“Angel,” Bucky’s tone is more authoritative now. “I need you to look at me.” She finally allows her eyes to meet his. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s alright. There are things I’ve done that I don’t want to talk about either.”

Angel nudges her cheek deeper into his hand, wanting to feel more of the contact.

“I want to believe that I’m good, and I want to believe that I won’t hurt you.” She bites her lip, no longer wanting to discuss the subject. “We can talk about this later. Right now, I think you have some unfinished business.

…

Angel went back to Amsterdam alone.

The two had gone to the airport together, bags packed, and hand in hand, but after Bucky had gone to buy a cup of coffee, she disappeared.

She didn’t leave him empty-handed. She went to the airport toy store and bought a small brown bear. When the stomach was pressed, Bucky could hear her voice say “I’ll come back to you. I promise. Love, your Angel.”

He had found it in his duffel bag along with a small bottle of apple cinnamon body wash and a note written on a napkin.

I hope you won’t be mad that I left you, but if you are, I understand.

I need to figure things out, tie up some loose strings before I find a lasting home. Maybe a lasting home in New York.

But I promise you, I’ll see you again. And I never break my promises.

I hope you’ll wait for me.

I love you, Bucky

He felt his heart shatter, but he understood. She needed time.

So he went home, back to his Brooklyn apartment. And he waited.

When he woke up, he waited.

When he’d listen to the voice in the bear, he waited.

When he’d go get lunch with Yori, he waited.

When he went to Louisiana to help Sam with the boat, he waited.

“Did you find your Angel?” Sam had asked him, looking out into the sunset.

“Not yet.” Bucky had replied.

Even after the events in Lower Manhattan, he still waited.

For days on end, he waited. Constantly checking his phone, calling Sharon, scouring through European newspapers, looking for any sign of her.

But he found nothing.

He wanted to give up, but a small part of him knew that Angel would come back. He could feel it deep within him.

She made him a promise.

Five Months Later

Angel stares at the red water rush down the shower drain, the metallic stench of blood permeating throughout the bathroom.

There was so much of it, not even her body wash could cover the smell.

She had said ‘one last kill’ three days after she stepped foot back in Amsterdam. And then she had said it again three kills later.

And now that her body count had reached a perfect two fifty, maybe this would be her last kill.

Two fifty was a good number, she thinks as she pulls Bucky’s red henley over her head. A good number to stop at.

The buzzing of her phone turns her attention away from the soft fabric.

She picks it up, brow furrowing at the ‘unknown number’.

Cautiously, she answers.

“Hello?”

“Hey, it’s me, Sharon.”

Angel stands.

“Sharon? How did you get my number?”

“I was a hustler in Madripoor. I have my ways. Don’t worry though, I’m using a burner phone.”

“Why are you calling me?”

There’s the sound of a refrigerator opening and closing from Sharon’s end of the line.

“I just want to let you know I’ve been pardoned.”

“That’s good to hear.”

“And I’m back in the CIA.”

“Congratulations.” Angel’s voice is tinged with sarcasm. “Now you’ve got an entire database of American government secrets at your disposal. Have fun with that.”

Sharon laughs.

“You know me too well. Which is surprising considering that we spent less than twenty-four hours together.”

“Well, knowing how to read people is a part of being an assasin.”

There’s a sigh on the other line.

“I don’t want you to panic, but there’s word that MI6 reopened your case.”

Angel closes her eyes and pulls the top of Bucky’s henley over her nose. In the beginning, when she had left him at the airport, she had taken the shirt with her. After a really bad job, or when she needed to feel okay, she'd bury her nose into the fabric and inhale, clinging onto the only piece of him she had with her.

But his smell had started to fade away and it filled her with sadness.

“So you’re telling me that they’ll come for me.”

“I doubt they’ll find you. After our talk in Madripoor, I managed to erase almost all of their progress. Still, I just wanted you to know.”

“Thanks.”

Silence fell in between them.

“So, what are you going to do now?”

Maybe it was time. Time to put her weapons down, pack her bags, and start over.

She thinks about Bucky’s offer. How he said that he would be waiting for her in Brooklyn. Maybe he’d still be waiting for her. Plus, she had made him a promise. She never broke her promises.

“I think it’s time to retire.”

...

Bucky had come home from late-night grocery shopping when he could smell the unmistakable scent of apple cinnamon body wash.

It could’ve been him. He found himself using it regularly. But this time, the smell was stronger. Sweeter.

He opens the door to his dark apartment, the only light coming from the city lights peeking through the curtains.

He quietly sets his bags down and turns on the lights. There, sitting on his kitchen counter is a cake box.

The fancy gold script indicated it was from one of the expensive bakeries in Midtown.

He hesitantly approaches it and gently opens it, revealing a fancy white cake covered in delicate piping and rosettes.

In the center, iced in simple pink script were the words ‘Miss Me?’

She’s here. She kept her promise.

The sound of his front door closing made him jump.

He whips around to see Angel. His sweet angel, wearing the same pink dress from their last day in Latvia, leaning against the door, arms crossed, and a wide smile on her face.

“Hey, Bucky.” She chuckles. “Thanks for waiting.”

...

Once again, a huge thank you to @sojournmichael for being my beta read, check out her writing, it’s amazing <3

#bucky x female reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes fanfiction #tfatws

34 notes · View notes

dead-end-street · 3 years

Note

690 with Chayenzo pls and thank you ^^

Thanks for the prompt for "on an island". I had intended for this to be shorter but then my hand slipped and it accidentally got smutty lmao enjoy~~

(Read on ao3)

---

The night breeze was stronger than usual on Pagliuzza. A gust of wind blew through Vincenzo’s open window, sending a stack of papers on his nightstand fluttering to the floor. His eyes snapped open, hand immediately going for the gun tucked between the mattress and the headboard above his head. After a few moments he realized there was no intruder — not that there would be on his secluded and secure private island — but a year and a half after living here, he still found himself reverting back to old habits.

Especially now.

He walked to the window, pushing the billowing, white curtain aside to look out at the waning moon in the sky. Something caught his eye down below and he saw a figure walking towards the beach, partially obstructed by the trees. When they reached the sand, he could finally make out that it was her.

---

Hong Cha-young stood alone on the beach, the warm breeze making her oversized sleep shirt shirt, which normally reached just above her knees, ride up slightly. She had arrived that morning after what felt like days of travel, greeted by the most beautiful man in the world, whom she now could finally call her own. The whole day seemed surreal; from finally being back together with him, to touring his island and the villa he’d built with her in mind, to the way his staff already treated her like she was part of the family as if they’d known her for years. He had told her that evening after dinner to get some rest in her room — the one he’d designed specifically for her — and given her a quick kiss that made her want more. She had wanted to object but her yawns kept sabotaging her plans to sneak into his room and before she knew it, she had passed out on her four-poster bed.

A few hours later she woke up feeling much better but suddenly wide awake despite it being only 3 in the morning. After a few more attempts to sleep, she gave up and decided to get some air. She loved the feeling of the cool sand between her toes, the grains exfoliating the bottoms of her feet as she walked towards the water. The moon was getting lower in the sky, the perfect crescent shape hanging above the waves. In all the hustle and bustle of the day she hadn’t actually had a chance to touch the water yet. She started walking again towards the waves beckoning her closer when she thought she heard someone call her name.

Peering over her shoulder she saw Vincenzo in a white t-shirt and what were probably Boorlaro silk pyjama shorts. When he got closer she could finally see his face better in the dark, hair tousled by the wind and a small smile on his face.

“Jetlag?” he asked and she nodded. “It will take a few days for you to fully switch over to this timezone. The trick is lots of water, eating meals at the right time for this timezone, and vitamin D.”

She smirked at the last part and stepped closer so she was right in his space. “So will you just feed me on the beach all day while I soak up the sun like a — what do they call them? Oh, cabana boy!”

He snorted and ran his hand up and down her arm. “Sure, if it would make you happy.”

His smile seemed so carefree — a look she hadn’t seen often on him when he was in South Korea. It suited him.

She turned away and continued her trek towards the water with him quickly falling into step with her.

“I can’t go the day without having dipped my toes in the Mediterranean Ocean!”

“Sea,” he corrected her. “It’s the Mediterranean Sea.”

“Whatever.”

A few more steps and she was ankle deep in the sea, surprised at how warm it was. She walked in a bit deeper until the waves were lapping at her knees and she pulled her sleep shirt up higher so it wouldn’t get wet.

“Is it always this warm?” she called behind her.

“What?”

The strong gusts had finally stopped but the breeze was still blowing at a good rate, making her words lost in the wind.

“The water. Is it always this wam?” she shouted a bit louder this time.

“It’s the warmest now because it’s August, but in the winter it can get down to 15ºC.”

“Ooh, so I came at the perfect time then!” she said, and began to walk a bit deeper, the water now at her thighs. She had to jump a few times to avoid an oncoming swell of water and to keep her clothes dry.

“You should come back inside, it’s late.”

“Don’t you want to join me? The water is so warm and the breeze is so refreshing.”

He shook his head and remained on dry land, which only made her want to do something naughty. She pretended to give up and walk back to him but at the last second, she flung her leg up, kicking a spray of water at him, then ran away cackling. She looked back and saw his nostrils flare, his white shirt almost soaked through and probably his shorts as well. She shrieked when she saw him start walking into the water towards her — a dark, predatory look in his eyes. She tried to run faster but forgot that running in water and on sand was not an easy feat. She almost lost her balance when she looked back at him again, realizing that he was much quicker than she’d expected, and let out an undignified squeal when his hand latched onto her wrist pulling her towards him. She crashed into his damp chest and looked up in time to see him dipping his head slowly, eyes fixed on her lips. She closed her eyes and tilted her head up, waiting for his lips to meet hers when suddenly she felt herself being pushed and falling backwards into the waves.

“YA!” she sputtered, when she emerged from the water to see a huge mischievous grin on his face. He took a step back but she was faster this time and hooked her foot around his ankle, making him topple into the water next to her.

When he surfaced, he looked annoyed, probably mad about his expensive Boorlaro being ruined by saltwater. She knew the only way to take his mind off of it was to distract him, so she swam over to him and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Wet bangs clung to his forehead and she smiled softly. Leaning in, she finally captured his lips with her in a proper kiss. He tasted salty from the seawater but also minty from his toothpaste. She angled her head to one side and he opened his mouth wider, tongue coming out to caress hers. The waves made her lose her balance slightly but he pulled her closer to him, one arm firmly gripping her waist, while the other hooked under one of her knees, pulling her leg around him. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders for support, then hopped up and wrapped both legs around him.

The water was warm, but his skin felt warmer under her skin. His shirt had floated up in the water and her bare legs were flush against his exposed torso. She realized her own shirt had floated up, his hand splayed across her back, under the shirt. She wasn’t sure if she could blame the jetlag for this light-headed feeling when there was this much bare skin pressed together, slick and smooth underwater.

He kissed her again and she forgot all about the jetlag, only focusing on the way he deepened it, then pulled back, sucking slightly on her upper lip. She couldn’t help the slight roll of her hips against him but it caught him off guard. He stumbled back a few steps, the water barely reaching his hips now. Had they been pushed closer to the shore? She looked back and the shore somehow seemed farther away.

“It’s the tide going out. It will be low tide in a few hours,” he explained between kisses pressed to the side of the throat and collarbone.

His fingers on her chin turned her head back to him. Back to his hungry mouth that kissed a path from her neck, up her jawline to the edge of her lips. Dipping her head again she kissed him back, moving one of her hands up to the back of his head, raking her fingers through his wet hair.

A gust of wind made her shiver against him, the air feeling much cooler than the water temperature. He wrapped his arm around her tighter and lowered himself so he was on his knees and the water came up to his neck and her chest. She contemplated unhooking her legs from his waist but his hand gripped her thigh and held her there. He ran his hand up and down her leg slowly, ending at her knee, then creeping back up higher and higher. She shivered again, pressing her chest into his, her nipples hard from the cool air. She needed to get lower in the water so her shoulders would be covered by the warm water, so she loosened her leg grip and shimmed down lower, relying on the buoyancy of the salt water to keep her afloat while she readjusted herself. A small wave came from behind her, knocking her into him, causing her core between her legs to rub into his pelvis.

Silk pyjamas left very little to the imagination but now there was no imagination required. He was getting hard against her and the way he broke the kiss to let out a groan gave her goosebumps that had nothing to do with the wind.

“We should probably stop before this goes too far,” he said, shakily, the lower parts of their bodies still pressed together with nothing but his shorts and her underwear separating them.

“Do you want to stop?” she asked, fingers still in his hair.

He let out a long breath and shook his head, “not really, but—”

“Then let’s not stop.”

He laughed against her lips and readjusted his grip so he held her with her left arm instead. His right hand came up to brush her now damp hair away from her face so he could see her better.

“We should go out a bit deeper, it’s getting too shallow again.”

She nodded and slipped off of him, her bottom hitting the sand sooner than she expected. The water somehow felt cool against her skin that had been flush against his warm body for so long. Instead of standing, they both swam a bit further out, with only their heads above the water. When he reached a spot where the water came to his mid-chest, he pulled her closer to him, hands sliding down her back as he kissed along her jawline. In a swift movement, he lifted her up, his hands on her ass, holding her in place against him. Her legs instinctively wrapped around him again.

Her heart was pounding after their short swim but mostly in anticipation of what was to come. She enjoyed the feeling of his large hands cupping her bottom and squirmed a little in his grip. He was harder than before and he let out a ragged breath when she ground her hips into him, at slow and steady rhythm.

She kissed him again, never tiring of the way he always met her ferocious energy, nipping at her lips and dragging his teeth across her skin. She wondered why they never gave into their desires when he was in Korea. There were more than enough chances for them to cross the line and she hadn’t been shy about her feelings, but there was always something or someone in the way or they hesitated too long and the moment had passed.

While she was sad for all the time they had wasted not getting together sooner, she couldn’t ignore the fact that this was one hell of a way to make themselves official — on a private island in the middle of the Mediterranean, half-naked under the moonlight. They never did things in half measures.

Vincenzo’s shirt floated past her and began to sink as it got heavier with water. Somewhere between making out and grinding into him, she’d missed when he removed his shirt. She looked down but could barely make anything out below the surface of the water. Instead, she ran her hands down the flat planes of his chest and stomach, revelling in the new expanse of bare skin. His palms slipped under her shirt and along her back but she wanted him closer, so she leaned back so she could tug it over her head. Her favourite sleep shirt sank to join his, somewhere in the watery depths below them.

The water lapped at her chest, the tops of her small breasts almost visible in the moonlight. He hoisted her up slightly higher so he could dip his head to kiss and lick down her chest and take one of her nipples into his mouth.

“Oh, fu—” she gasped. His hot tongue swirling around her nipple then trailing along her chest to kiss and suck the other one.

Using her feet she tried to push his shorts down since her hands were busy holding onto him so she didn’t sink. He quickly got the message and helped her with one hand to finally push them down over his hips and he was free.

Reaching between them, she lowered her hand down his abdomen and held him at the base, gently running her fingers up and down to prepare herself for what to expect since she couldn’t see a thing past a few inches underwater. She looked back up at his face and couldn’t help smiling at the intense gaze that stared back at her. He was trying his best to keep his breathing under control but she could tell he was struggling. She snaked her other hand around his neck, pulling him into a soft kiss that felt different from the others. It tasted sweeter, somehow.

As much as she wanted to savour this moment, another more animalistic side of her wanted them to finally give in. She needed him inside her. Now. Without breaking the kiss she pulled her underwear to one side then moved closer to him. As if he read her mind, he released his grip on her slightly so she could slide down further and pressed up into her as slowly as he could bear it.

It was her turn to gasp — pressing her forehead to his, eyes squeezed shut — breaking the kiss momentarily. Gripping his shoulders and back, she began to roll her hips, sliding back slightly then dropping back down as he filled her up. The hands on her hip and ass dug into her skin as they moved together. Everything was slipperier in the water and she slid off him a couple times, resulting in giggles from both of them. She dug her heels into his thighs to anchor herself better, switching the angle slightly so she could slip her hand between them again to circle her clit. He quickened the pace incrementally, opting to continue with several quick pumps followed by a few long, deep thrusts.

Their lips met again, a little sloppy from the change in angle and the gradually frantic movements happening underwater, but still good. She would never tire of kissing him. She could feel herself getting close and could only imagine he was too. There was time later for slow, drawn out sex in an actual bed, but there was only one opportunity to have sex for the first time with your ride-or-die partner in the sea. She could truly say this was most unconventional place she’d had sex.

A flurry of Italian poured from his mouth as his nails dug into her hip and his pace slowed for a moment for him to catch his breath. She could tell he was trying to make it last longer but she was ready to go over the edge and drag him with her. She squeezed around him as she accelerated the movement of her hand around her clit and rocked her hips into him a tiny bit harder. Her breath came out in short bursts, chest heaving as she could feel her first orgasm claim her. She slowed her fingers as she clenched around him, her body jerking as she clung to him. Her hand got trapped between them when he pulled her closer to pump harder into her. She could feel another orgasm building from the friction between their joined bodies and it crashed over her unexpectedly. He finally couldn’t hold on any longer, a long moan escaping his lips, and his head falling to rest on her shoulder. He slipped out of her before he came and part of her was sad for the loss of heat between her legs. She wrapped her body around him again as they bobbed in the water, feeling heavy despite the salt water keeping them afloat.

He peppered kisses down her neck and shoulder, whispering phrases that sounded foreign to her ears but mixed with words she understood. Again, she felt light-headed but blissfully happy. She gave him a kiss and untangled herself from him to stand on her own two feet, which almost gave out at first. He slipped an arm around her waist to steady her.

“That was incredible,” he said, an air of disbelief in his voice after he pulled his shorts back up.

“I’m exhausted but I can’t wait to do that again tomorrow,” Cha-young said, with a sleepy wink as they walked back to the shore.

He chuckled, “next time, we need to do it on a surface that doesn’t move. I almost drowned us out there near the end.”

As they emerged from the water they both realized their tops were missing. Looking back into the dark sea, they knew it was a lost cause to go searching for them now. At least he had shorts but all she had on was a pair of navy blue underwear. Crossing her arms across her chest, she let him wrap his arm around her shoulder to lead her back towards the villa. He paused to turn on the outside shower for them to rinse off the salt and sand from their bodies before hurrying inside, both of them dripping on the tile floor.

---

When they’d both finally gotten dry and changed into another set of sleepwear, he knocked on her door to see if she needed anything else.

“Come in,” came her soft voice behind the door and he let himself in. She was curled up in bed, eyes closed, clutching a pillow. “Stay with me.”

He nodded and shut off the light before sliding under the covers behind her. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him so she was flush with his body.

“I’m really happy you’re finally here,” he said into her hair.

“Mm, me too,” she mumbled, already drifting into a deep sleep.

He had wanted to tell her something else but sleep claimed him too quickly. They both fell asleep soundly before the sun began to rise.

#vincenzo #tvn vincenzo #chayenzo #chayenzo fic #vincenzo cassano #hong cha young #vincenzo x cha young #my fic

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writing-for-me-at-this-point · 3 years

Text

The Missing Guardian | Prologue: Act I Scene II | Mondstadt: The Outlander Who Caught The Wind

A.N. yay! second chapter! hope you guys enjoy and sorry for any typos! this chapter is also a day late :/ sorry again about that. im currently going through a lot family wise, but i wanted this to come out as soon as i could get it out. in compensation, you guys have another birthday character coming out and hopefully the first i love you prompt :D anyways, enjoy!

Word Count. 2,213 words

Page Count. 6.5 pages

TWarnings. cursing

Synopsis. When you’ve finally found a home in a set of twins who travel across worlds, setting out to enjoy your time with them; learning everything you could while traveling from world to world. But this time was different, because this time, someone stood in your way from continuing forward, from going home. You watched as your family was torn from you once again, leaving you stuck in a world alone with only a guide, the memories of a life long left behind, and the hope of finding them once again.

[ Series Masterlist: The Missing Guardian Mini Masterlist ]

[ previous ] [ Act I Scene II ] [ next scene ]

You smiled as your gaze looked out the window, the eternal abyss staring back as it was littered with the misty colors of turquoise, lavender, and many shades of rose- stars littering the rest of the scene in front of you. You leaned your head against the metal framing of the window, your hair cushioning you comfortably as thoughts sat still in your mind, your body calm as well.

How long has it been since you were on the ship?

"Hey kid, don't sleep with your neck like that- you'll mess it up" Quills voice rang out, but it sounded far away, muffled. You didn't know if it was cause of your tiredness or your spaced out state, but you couldn't seem to care by that point. You felt thick gloves move around your neck, the other moving under your knees, before a huff and some grumbling.

"I don't know what you'll do without us, but even then," He sighed, carrying your body to the closest area where you could rest properly under his gaze, on the plush rest area in the cabin, allowing him to navigate the stars while keeping you near- though he'd vehemently denied it at any and every comment about it, the Guardian had grown attached to you, finding a child in you where you found a father in him.

"I don't think I want you leaving the nest so soon."

"As we all know, poetry and language flow like the wind. There'll definitely be someone there who knows about your friends. At least, that's what Paimon thinks!" Your guide chimed, hovering in front of you as you both made your way down the side of the hill, the vibrant and thick greens of the grass and trees were only further complimented by the sun- this place definitely was beautiful. You didn't feel warm, or overheated, which surprised you, especially with how bright the sun was. The cool breeze was constant in this place, giving an Autumn chill to a Spring setting, at this rate you'd think you'd need your body suit to warm you up.

"Whether the gods actually answer you is a different story. You never know unless you try. So let's hop to it!" You can practically feel her smile, her small head turning back to you, Paimon's small body bouncing up at how you were listening to her so intently. By the time you reached the statue, she started to cross again, having the privilege of floating while you... did not.

"You can swim right over! Don't push yourself though!"

"Let's just hope I don't sink with all the gear I have... or get electrocuted." You joked, walking into the water till your hot waist level, deciding at that point swimming was best.

"W-what? Don't just jump in then!" She shouted, still loud as ever in that tiny body of hers, floating above you with a worried look on her face.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. My gear is all waterproof, so there isn't an issue there." You huffed, climbing onto the shore of the tiny island before shaking off the water and straining what you could, lightening your load as much as allowed.

"See? All good."

"Well don't joke like that! Paimon doesn't know what she'll do if anything happens to you... Paimon doesn't even wanna think about it!" She exclaims, a hand to her head, her face still concerned. You sighed, a small smile coming to your face before you took a small hand into your own, rubbing the soft skin to soothe her.

"Alright. I'm sorry about that joke, I won't make any of those types again, alright? I'm not going anywhere. Not without you, Paimon." You smiled, sincerity in your voice, making her smile and nod her head.

"Good! Paimon’ll make sure to keep that in mind for the future."

"I'll hold you to it." You smirked, walking up to the statue, finding interest in the large golden plate. You reached out, taking the glove off your hand to get a proper feel of the metal, before taking a step back in shock. The statues' indentations lit up and aquamarine, the one you were so used to seeing outside of terrestrial planes, before a deep thump resounded in your head- much like a heartbeat. A small swirl of wind danced around the statue before the orb held in place started to glow, small particles combing in the center before forming a small sigil with wings that flew straight towards your chest.

You felt a rush of cool air through your veins, like an excitement you couldn't explain, whips of teal surrounding your body as you could only take another step back and look to your uncovered hand to see for any physical changes as well- to which there were none. But you felt something. In your chest, your heart, something that was stirring and it didn't seem to slow down.

"Ooh! Did you just feel the elements of the world?" Paimon asked, allowing you to turn and face her, your face still showing a stunned expression from... whatever that was.

"Seems all you had to do was just touch the statue and you got the power of Anemo! As much as they may want it, people in this world can never get a hold of powers as easily as you..." She explained, crossing her arms over the matter, an idea popping into your head at the same time.

"I think I might know why-"

"Ah-ha, it's because you're not from this world to begin with. If we keep heading West from here, we'll eventually reach Mondstadt, the City of Freedom. Mondstadt is the city of wind because they worship the God of Anemo." She cuts you off, making you only hum at the action, allowing her to continue.

"So perhaps, because you got the power from the God of Anemo, you can find some clues there. There are also lots of bards there, so perhaps one of them has heard news of your friends."

"That isn't a bad idea, Paimon." You smiled, thankful she was so serious and straightforward with helping you find the twins, something that seemed to be floating around in your head as you took in everything from this new world. She was like an anchor to keep you grounded, and for that, you were extremely thankful to her- beyond words.

"Let's move then!" Obviously happy with your praise at her deduction and planning, though simple, it was a good and steady start- and that's what you needed at this moment.

"The elements in this world responded to your prayers and Paimon thinks that's a lovely sign." She finished, her gaze reaching behind you as some Slimes approached, eyes wide at the intrusion by the elemental mutants. You followed her gaze, finding the flaming creatures to be bouncing right in your direction, your surprise evident on your face.

"Ah, shit." You grumbled, taking a few steps back, your arm starting to stir up with energy. It felt like when you drank too much coffee, to the point where even your limbs were vibrating, wisps of turquoise enveloping your palm on instinct. The small slime soon was sucked into the vortex you had made, swirling around before getting blasted away, back onto the land- over the lake and away from you.

"Ugh, gross." You winced, noticing the slime that coated the land in front of you, and your dominant hand. Wiping your hand, you decided it was best to swim to the other side of the lake, following Paimon as you escaped the burning grasses. You could only laugh as she huffed about wanting "cool fighting powers" as well, reaching the end of the lake and making your way further in.

"You know, it may not be a blessing. Usually powers like these have consequences..." You said, wringing out your hair as the wind started to pick up, but this time it wasn’t by your own hand.

"You shouldn't say that! These powers are a blessing from the Archons and for that you should be grateful! They'd never allow anything bad to happen to the people they've blessed with their own two hands." A low rumble started to echo through the area, making you turn your body and look around for what was causing it as you continued your talk with Paimon.

"I get that... but still, usually the Gods and whatever powerful beings there are have some type of plan along with it- at least that's how it worked in my world."

"Then maybe you should consider our world works differently?" She quips her head.

"A god is a god." You huffed, the rumbling becoming louder before a dragon caught your vision, making you gasp in awe. Six wings, four limbs, a large tail, and decorated in patterns of blues that made it almost blend with the sky if its wings didn't hold an ethereal glow, a white underbelly contrasted with the rest of its body.

"Wow! What is that? There's something huge in the sky!"

"You guys have dragons here?" You exclaimed, walking in its direction to where it flew, making sure to lower your output of noise due to the camps that were littered nearby with humanoid creatures.

"It's heading to the heart of the forest, where we're going, so make sure to be careful." Paimon notes, keeping up with your pace as you jogged into the forest, collected some things along the way that could help in the future. By the time you had reached the forest, you slowed your pace to a comfortable walk, looking around and making sure not to run into anything aggressive- or the dragon you two had just seen.

Maybe it continued flying anyways?

"Huh? Look at that." Paimon pointed in front of the both of you, the grumbling appearing once again.

You were wrong.

Moving to hide behind one of the larger trees, you pressed your back against it before slowly turning your head to look at the scene in front of you, still making sure to keep your noise at the bare minimum. The dragon from before was standing before you, almost cautious of the person that stood before them, a short man dressed in turquoise and white, holding his hands outward to the dragon before him.

"Don't be afraid. It's alright now, I'm back." He spoke gently, ignoring the dangerous growls coming from the beast in front of him. It made you worry at the sight and activate the mask that was embedded into your earpiece, still watching as Paimon spoke up.

"Is he talking... to a dragon?" She questioned, right as your palms lit up with the Anemo power you had just gained, a glowing pattern forming as it burst with life, alerting the dragon and scaring it away with a scream of displeasure.

"Who's there?" The man questioned as he jumped back, his gaze in your direction before taking a few steps back, disappearing in a glow of light. Your hair felt like it was about to be yanked out as the dragon flapped its wings before taking off, leaving you dazed at what had just happened, and headache from the harsh tug. You stood there in shock for a bit, not saying anything as your hand buzzed and fizzled out, focusing on calming down your heart rate- deactivating your mask to breathe better as well.

"That was close! Paimon almost got blown away!" Your guide yelped. "Luckily Paimon managed to grab a hold of your hair! Thanks." She smiled, handed over her heart, and you felt your energy drain immensely in the moment.

"Good thing you didn't pull my hair out." You sighed, rubbing the aching spot to soothe your head as Paimon continued to speak, you following closely behind.

"This definitely has something to do with that weirdo who was talking to the dragon..." She trailed off.

"Is... that normal? Talking to dragons?" You asked, confusion written on your face, wanting to know if this was a common occurrence in this world.

"Of course not. But what's that? There's some kind of shiny red thingy on the rock over there." She pointed out. You both walked over to look at the glowing item, her warnings falling on deaf ears as Paimon spoke about never seeing anything like this before, making unable to help in this specific situation.

"Let's keep this, just in case." You mumbled, your bare hands picking up the gem(?) with ease before packing it into your belt, tucked away safely and unable to escape.

"Good idea, now let's get out of here."

"Agreed." You nodded, deciding to stroll through the forest for a bit, both to rest and catch up on your thoughts, maybe ask Paimon more about this world and how it worked- so you don't seem like a bumbling idiot to the locals. But before you could do any of that, a yell came from behind you, rushed footsteps following at the same time.

"You there! Stop right there!" A girl yelled, jumping across your field of vision off the small pass, dressed in red and white with long brown hair, rolling as she hit the ground before coming back up to a stand.

"..."

"Are you fucking kidding me?"

#genshin impact x reader #genshin impact #The Missing Guardian: Genshin Impact #genshin impact imagine #x reader #reader insert #queen.writing #gi x reader #gi imagine

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