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happy74827 · 3 months ago

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Bruised Shadows

[Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: While coming home from another grueling job, Bucky found himself ambushed by the unrelenting warmth of his neighbor’s compassion.

WC: 3002

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Grumpy x Sunshine (fav trope fr)

I decided to post one of my drafts since it has been decades since I’ve posted last… whoops 👀

『••✎••』

Bucky Barnes didn’t notice the blood until it dripped onto the scuffed toe of his boot. A crimson bead, sharp against the black leather, caught the dim hallway light as he trudged toward his apartment. He swiped the back of his flesh hand across the bridge of his nose, smearing the trickle, and grunted. Didn’t hurt. Barely registered. The serum had a way of dulling the sting of split skin and bruised bone—nothing a few hours wouldn’t knit back together. The ache in his knuckles from the job, though? That lingered, a quiet reminder of the fists he’d thrown and the unconscious bodies he’d left sprawled in some warehouse two states over.

The duffel bag slung over his vibranium shoulder thumped rhythmically against his hip, heavy with gear he hadn’t bothered to unpack. Another day, another mess cleaned up with Sam, for which he took most of the credit, but Bucky didn’t care much about the public eye—just the doing. It kept his hands busy and his mind occupied. Kept the nightmares at bay, if only for a night.

He was three steps from his door, key already fished from his pocket, when he heard it—your voice, soft as a damn spring breeze, cutting through the stale air of the hallway.

"James?"

He froze but didn’t turn. He didn’t need to. He knew it was you—only you called his name like that like it wasn’t a curse or a weapon. Like it was just… his. He clenched his jaw, the ache in his bruised eye socket pulsing faintly as he willed you to keep walking. You lived two doors down, always too close for comfort, always too you—bright and warm and everything he wasn’t. He’d spent months dodging the way you lingered in his trajectory, all soft smiles and small talk he didn’t deserve.

"James, oh my God, what happened to your face?"

There it was—concern, thick and unfiltered, wrapping around him like a blanket he didn’t ask for. He turned his head just enough to catch you in his peripheral, and Christ, there you were—hair a little messy from whatever late-night project you’d been buried in, eyes wide and shining with that unbearable kindness. You were clutching a mug, steam curling from it, probably tea or something equally gentle. You looked like an angel, and he felt like the devil himself standing there, bloodied and hulking in his tactical gear.

"It’s nothing," he muttered, voice low and rough, turning back to his door. "I’m fine."

"You’re bleeding." Your footsteps pattered closer, too quick for him to escape, and suddenly you were right there—close enough that he could smell the lavender on you, feel the warmth radiating off your skin. His metal arm twitched, instinct screaming at him to pull away before he tainted you somehow. "Your nose, your eye—James, that’s not nothing."

He exhaled sharply through his nose, wincing when it stung the raw skin. "I’ve had worse. Go back to your tea."

But you didn’t. Of course, you didn’t. You never listened when he tried to brush you off, and it drove him up the damn wall—how you’d barrel through his gruff exterior like it was tissue paper. You set the mug on the floor—carefully because you were always careful—and grabbed his sleeve, tugging with a strength that surprised him for someone so soft. "No, you’re coming with me. I’m not letting you bleed all over your apartment when I can help."

"You?" He arched a brow, the bruised one, and regretted it when it pulled at the swelling. "What’re you gonna do, stitch me up?"

"If I have to." Your tone was firm and stubborn, and he hated how it made his chest tighten. "Come on."

He could’ve pulled away. He could’ve shrugged you off with a flick of his arm—vibranium or flesh. It didn’t matter; you were no match for him. He was a goddamn super soldier, a walking weapon, and you were… what? A civilian with a bleeding heart and a brain too sharp for your good. He’d seen you solve crossword puzzles in two minutes flat and heard you ramble about obscure history facts when he’d lingered too long in the laundry room. You weren’t an Avenger, weren’t SHIELD—just a woman who’d wormed her way into his life with cookies and quiet conversations, and now here you were, dragging him toward your apartment like he was some stray you needed to fix.

And he let you. God help him, he let you.

Your place smelled like you—lavender and vanilla and something faintly sweet, like the cookies you’d left outside his door last week with a note that said, "Don’t be a grump; eat something." The lights were warm and soft, nothing like the harsh fluorescents in his sparse apartment. You pushed him toward the couch with a gentle shove, and he dropped the duffel by the door, too tired to argue.

"Sit," you ordered, already darting to the kitchen. "And don’t move."

He sat, legs sprawled, metal arm resting heavily on the cushion. His flesh hand rubbed at the back of his neck, where tension coiled tight. He didn’t belong here—didn’t belong in your orbit, period. You were sunlight, and he was a shadow, all sharp edges and dark corners. The Winter Soldier might’ve been gone, scrubbed clean by Wakanda and time, but the nightmares still clawed at him—flashes of blood screams, faces he couldn’t unsee. He woke up some nights with his vibranium fist clenched so hard it creaked, half-expecting to find a body under him. You didn’t know that. You didn’t know him. And he’d kept it that way, only feeding you scraps—his arm, the war, vague mentions of missions—because the full truth would send you running.

You came back with a damp cloth, a bowl of water, and a first-aid kit that looked like it’d seen better days. "Tilt your head back," you said, kneeling in front of him.

You were too close. Way too close.

"I can do it myself," he grumbled, reaching for the cloth.

You swatted his hand away—actually swatted it like he wasn’t just pounds of muscle and metal who could snap your wrist without blinking. "Stop it. Let me."

He stared at you, jaw tight, blue eyes narrowing under the bruised lid. You stared back, unflinching, and he saw it—the worry etched into your brow, the way your lips pressed together like you were holding back a lecture. He relented, tipping his head back against the couch because fighting you felt like kicking a puppy.

The cloth was cool against his skin, and your touch—God, your touch—was feather-light, dabbing at the blood on his nose with a care that made his throat close up. He watched you through half-lidded eyes, the way your lashes fluttered as you focused, the little furrow between your brows. You were so gentle it hurt, like a bruise he couldn’t shake off.

"You don’t have to do this," he said, quieter than he meant. "I’m not your problem."

"You’re not a problem at all," you shot back, not missing a beat. "You’re my neighbor. And my friend. And you’re hurt, so I’m helping. Deal with it."

Friend. The word lodged in his chest like a bullet. He didn’t have any friends since Steve—not really. Sam, maybe, on a good day. But you? You’d been chipping away at him for months, ever since he’d moved in—leaving him coffee when you caught him coming back from a run, asking about his arm like it was just another part of him, not a relic of his sins. He’d grumbled, dodged, and kept his distance, but you kept coming back, sunny and relentless, until he couldn’t imagine the hallway without you in it.

"Does it hurt?" you asked, brushing the cloth over the swelling around his eye. Your fingers grazed his cheek, and he tensed, every muscle locking up.

"No," he lied. It didn’t hurt—not the way you meant. No, the pain was deeper, a gnawing thing that came from how soft you were, how close you were, how much he wanted to lean into it and couldn’t.

"You’re a terrible liar!" you said, smiling faintly. “You’re all tense. I’m not gonna break you, you know.”

But I could break you, he thought, and the idea made his stomach twist. His strength wasn’t just in the arm—it was in every fiber of him, honed by decades of violence. He could lift you with one hand and crush your bone without trying. He’d done it before, under Hydra’s leash, and the memory of it—of fragile things shattering under his grip… kept him up at night. You didn’t know that. You saw the arm, sure, but you didn’t know its weight or danger.

You rinsed the cloth, pink water swirling in the bowl, and came back to his eye, your breath fanning over his skin. He could feel the heat of you, the steadiness of your hands, and it undid him—slowly, thread by thread. He wanted to pull away, to growl at you to stop, but he didn’t. Couldn’t. Because you were looking at him like he was worth something, and he hadn’t felt that in so long, it scared him.

"Why do you care so much?" he asked, voice rough, almost accusatory. "I’m fine. I’m always fine."

You paused, cloth hovering over his cheek, and your eyes flicked up to his—big, earnest, piercing. "Because you’re not fine, Bucky. Not always. And even if you were, I’d still care. You don’t have to go through everything alone."

His breath hitched, and he hated it—hated how you saw through the cracks he’d patched up with sarcasm and silence. He shifted, flesh hand curling into a fist on his thigh. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Then tell me," you said, soft but insistent. "I mean… you don’t have to if you don’t want to, but… I’m here. You know that, right?"

He didn’t answer. The words were stuck, tangled in the mess of his head. And it seemed as if you knew that because you didn’t push; you just went back to cleaning his face, and the silence stretched thick with everything he wouldn’t say.

When you finished, the blood was gone, the bruising still dark but less angry. You sat back on your heels, studying him like you were checking your work. "There. You look less like you lost a bar fight."

He snorted, a rare sound, and your smile widened—bright, unguarded, like you’d won something. He felt it then, the pull he’d been fighting for months—the way his chest warmed when you looked at him, the way his guard slipped when you laughed. He liked you. More than liked you. And it terrified him.

You stood, gathering the supplies, and he caught your wrist—vibranium fingers light but firm. You froze, eyes darting to his, and he saw the question there, the flicker of surprise.

"You shouldn’t," he said quietly, the words slipping out before he could stop them.

Your brows furrowed. "Shouldn’t what?"

"Like me. Care about me. Whatever this is." He gestured vaguely between you, his metal hand dropping to hide under his jacket. "I’m not… I’m not good for you."

The silence that followed was heavy and thick with unspoken things. You didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, you leaned forward again, your hand resting lightly on his knee. He could’ve crushed steel with less effort than it took to stay still under that touch.

"James," you said, voice soft but firm, "you don’t get to decide that for me."

He clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking. "You don’t know me. Not really."

"Then tell me." Your eyes searched his, open and unafraid. "Tell me who you are, what you think I can’t handle. Because from where I’m sitting, you’re the guy who’s sat through my terrible movie marathons, who’s fixed my leaky sink without me asking, who’s looked out for me even when you didn’t have to. That’s who I see."

He wanted to argue, to tell you about the bodies he’d left behind, the decades he’d spent as a puppet for killers. But the words wouldn’t come. You were looking at him like he was worth something, and it was unraveling him stitch by stitch.

"You deserve better," he rasped, barely audible. "Someone whole. Someone who’s not… broken."

You shook your head, a small, incredulous laugh escaping you. "James, I don’t want 'better.' I want you. Broken pieces and all."

He stared at you, heart hammering, torn between shoving you away and pulling you closer. Your hand was warm against the cool metal, your gaze unflinching, and he felt the dam break—the walls he’d built crumbling under the weight of you. He wanted to believe it, wanted to let himself have this, but the fear lingered, sharp and insistent.

"You’re too good," he murmured, almost to himself. "Too damn good."

You smiled, small and tentative, and leaned in—just enough that he could feel your breath on his lips. "Maybe you’re just enough."

He didn’t know who moved first—maybe him, maybe you—but suddenly, your lips were on his, soft and warm and tasting faintly of tea. It was slow and hesitant, his flesh hand cupping your cheek like you might shatter if he pressed too hard. The kiss was a question, a confession, and when you sighed against him, he answered—deepening it, letting himself feel you, taste you, for the first time.

The kiss didn’t last as long as he’d liked. He missed you the second you had pulled back to rest your forehead against him. Your fingers brushed his jaw, and he felt the tension bleed out of him, replaced by something softer, something he hadn’t let himself name until now.

"I’m not going anywhere," you whispered.

And for once, he believed it.

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charliemwrites · 1 year ago

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There are men across the street.

The house (and you use the term generously) that slumps there has been vacant for some time now. Ever since you moved in a couple years ago, actually. It’s an eyesore for sure. Graffiti on the walls, boards on the windows, a basketball-sized hole in the roof. The porch is the worst of it. Sagging in the middle and crumbling on the ends, stripped and moss-encrusted wood.

But today there are men there, stomping up and down the groaning steps in big, steel-toed boots.

You watch for a bit from the safety of your kitchen window, sipping coffee and batting your cat off the counter. They don’t look like a normal construction crew - wearing all black and not so much as a hammer on their belts. Three of them that you can see, one about average height, one tall, and one very tall. The tall one tags after the shortest of them often, gets pushed and shoved and snapped at it seems like.

You lose interest when the coffee runs out and your phone chimes, shooing you off to the grocery store. All three have disappeared inside by the time you saunter out, keys jingling and reusable bags in hand.

Margot says they’re renovating - likely some rich man’s retirement project. The same thing happened just down the street six months before you moved in, and now Joe has solar panels.

She postulates over the situation across the street while taking delicate bites of the cheesecake she brought over. (A test recipe for her niece’s baby shower in a few weeks. You don’t tell her that it’s too sweet and just sip your tea between bites.) She hypothesizes that one of them is this hypothetical rich man’s son, bringing some handy friends around for extra hands to work.

It sounds about as plausible as Agatha’s mutterings that they’re drug lords, so you nod along and watch your calico sneak up on your tuxedo behind her.

The garden is your own little retirement project. (You’re not actually retired, no matter what your sister snipes. But some smart money moves and a successful writing career is virtually the same with no kids and no spouse.) It’s going about as well as the renovations across the street - which is say, better and quicker than expected.

You planted clover in the yard, and are working on wildflowers in the boxes. The clover is already blooming, little flower tufts springing up for bumblebees to perch on. The wildflowers are mixed success so far, but nothing is dead yet.

You mostly just tootle around to be outside - allotted sunshine lest you become the shut in Bertram accused you of your first couple months.

The cats watch you pick at weeds from the window. Or two of them do. The other one is glaring from the fridge, angry that you tossed her back inside when she tried to slip past your ankles. (With any luck, you’ll have another sibling for them soon, but the handsome orange thing that keeps coming by at dawn and dusk is too stupid to be caught.) All three of them shift to look at something over your shoulder.

“Excuse.”

You don’t startle, thankfully. The voice may be unfamiliar, but neighbors stop by consistently enough that you’re not surprised to have your solitude interrupted.

What you are surprised by is the tall (very, very tall) man standing at the edge of your front yard. One of the renovators.

“Hi,” you say, straightening.

He points a gloved finger at you - no, not at you. Past you. At your cats.

“May I see them?” He asks in a thick German accent.

You blink, surprised and confused.

He’s a big man. Not just unusually tall, but broad as well. Muscle tugs at the fabric of his shirt, cargo pants clinging to his thighs. He also hasn’t bothered to take off the heavy duty dust mask, black sunglasses, or jacket hood obscuring his features. Looks like he’s about to rob you, honestly.

But Agatha’s uncharitable muttering about delinquent men rings like a warning toll. You’re at risk of sinking into the judgmental sea of upper-middle class suburbia, and that’s not water you want to tread.

“Sure!” You reply, ignoring his lack of introduction. “One sec.”

The cats see you dart from view and hurry to meet you at the door, meowing and yowling. You crack it open only wide enough to snatch up your precious firstborn, his leggies sticking out in abject bafflement at being airborne. You make guilty eye contact with your other two fiends before swiftly wedging the door shut again.

Then adjust your son, his little paws resting on your shoulder as you turn. Your visitor is standing right where you left him, perks up when he sees the cat bundled in your arms.

“This is Guy.”

You step closer, ignoring that shred of nervousness that being close to any man (especially one so physically intimidating) brings. To his credit, he only shuffles just enough to offer his hand for inspection.

“Guy?” he asks.

“I wasn’t going to adopt him at first, so I just called him Little Guy for so long that he thought that was his name. And then I did adopt him and now he won’t answer to anything else.”

You come by the rambling honestly - an obligate introvert until you moved to this neighborhood. There are few things you ever want to talk about with strangers, but your cats are one of them.

“He is a little guy,” the man muses.

Guy has no reservations about rubbing his fat face on the stranger’s glove, a purr kicking up in his chest. You relax as the man keeps his touch gentle and slow, that little bit of paranoid tension trickling into the soil beneath your feet.

“The other two aren’t as well behaved, I don’t trust them without harnesses on,” you add, nodding at the window.

The man glances up at them. Doesn’t seem to realize that his demise (and yours) is imminent from their glares.

“What are their names?”

You flush. “Rasputin and Shithead. I tell everyone else her name is Susan though.”

A sharp bark of laughter splits the air like a falling ax, cracks right down the middle. It makes you jump a bit - Guy is expectedly unbothered - but still you find yourself gratified. Laughing is good, it means you’re doing things right.

“Sorry,” he says, “but my friend would like that name.”

You gesture at the house across the street. “One of them?”

“Yes, the short one.”

You only just manage not to snort in amusement, but it doesn’t stop him from noticing. The mask moves, you think he might be grinning underneath.

“Does he know you call him that?”

“Not if you don’t tell him.”

You doubt you’ll have the opportunity even if you wanted to.

Someone’s at the door.

You’re only half-dressed, waist deep in laundry you have no excuse for putting off so long. Aren’t expecting company either - it’s Sunday morning, everyone should be at their various churches or visiting relatives. Can’t remember the last time someone knocked before noon on a Sunday.

Still, it was a big solid knock. The kind that makes you think it’s not the usual neighbor come by to impose on your space.

You glance down at the hem of your sweatshirt, determine it’s far enough down your thighs to be acceptable, and pad to the door.

You open it to another of the renovators. The “short” one - though you readjust that measurement quickly. He’s still taller than you, it’s just that most anyone seems diminutive compared to his friend.

“Morning,” you chime.

“We need your driveway.” His voice is low and rough, blunt. A sledgehammer to concrete. Also German-accented, you note.

“Oh,” you reply, “what for?”

He grunts. “Work.”

And you, a longtime observer of politely shaking people down for information by this point, smile without teeth.

“Oh, a work truck? It won’t make a mess will it?”

“No.”

You hum, glance at your stupid little sedan parked in the middle of the driveway.

“Okay, I’ll move — Shithead!”

You scramble to grab at the black and white blur of evil, sweeping her up in your arms as she meows in complaint. One of her back feet catches in the hem of your sweatshirt and starts to pull it up as she kicks. You curl an arm under her butt for support, but mostly she just takes the opportunity to chomp down on the meat of your thumb.

You glance at the man. “Shithead is very interested in the renovations.”

He stares. “So that is actually its name. I thought you were being rude and Konig didn’t realize.”

Ah, so that’s his name. You never did get that introduction.

“No, yeah, this is Shithead, I’m sure you can see why.”

The corner of his mouth twitches as she unlatches from your thumb, only to bite down on your wrist.

“So! The truck - when will it be here?”

“Noon.”

“Great! See you around!” You shut the door in his face without getting a name.

You threaten, not for the first time, to turn her into a pair of mittens. She responds by attacking your foot until Rasputin tackles her. Guy cries at the door, probably missing a man he met for all of two minutes.

The work truck stays through the night. Your cats spend all afternoon watching the men cross the street and back. Every once in a while, Guy puts his little feet up on the glass - Konig must be passing by.

You glance out the kitchen window only once and make hard eye contact with the third of their trio. He’s somehow even more covered up than Konig, and yet you get the distinct impression that your gaze is not welcome.

You blink and abandon the dishes for later.

The next morning, they’re already at it when you shuffle outside for the mail. Konig raises a slow hand in greeting, but visibly brightens when you smile sleepily and wave back.

You pass the work truck - the back panel is already open for them to unload wood beams and heavy-looking buckets. Construction stuff, as expected - and not messy, as promised.

You spot a red and white flag decal on the rear window. Austria, isn’t it?

“Did you just wake up?” a flat voice asks.

You squint a little through the morning sun at the man from the day before. The rude one.

You yawn. “Mhmm.”

He frowns at you, disapproval plain. Agatha will like him, you muse, shoving a hand in your mailbox. They both seem to have strong opinions about your sleep schedule.

“It is late.”

“It’s only 8.” You tug out a sheaf of envelopes and begin idly flipping through them.

“The sun is up.”

“So what?”

He clicks his tongue disdainfully. You absently click back. Then jump as a big body lands right in front of you. The third man, two wooden beams balanced on his shoulder. He makes brief eye contact with you again, then strides across the street.

“Shoo,” the rude one says. “Men at work, yes?”

You grumble. “See if I bring you cookies.”

Konig glances up from the truck bed, eyes shining. “Cookies?”

Well shit.

Rasputin keeps you company while you cook. He’s the only one allowed on the counter for any length of time. Shithead steals anything and everything, or bats at your hands while you work. Guy has the equal parts endearing and infuriating habit of touching everything with his paws.

Rasputin is the only one who will sit quietly to observe, leaning in for the occasional kiss. Today, he’s watching you bake cookies and assemble sandwiches. A dual-purpose welcome and peace offering to the three men across the street.

Is it too much? Maybe. But you’ve got nothing better to do and kindness won’t break your bank, so. Cookies and sandwiches.

You change clothes while the cookies cool on the pan - a sundress for the warm, late-spring weather. They’ve seen you in your pajamas far too much already.

At the door, you hesitate. This house doesn’t feel inhabited yet, but it also doesn’t feel right to just open the door. It’s quiet inside, so no power tools to drown you out. Making a face, you settle for a firm knock. It takes a minute or two - you think you might hear distant shouting. Then the door swings in fast and hard, nearly startling you.

It’s the third of their trio, the one you’ve yet to speak to. He’s covered head to toe, fabric around his head and face, leaving only sharp blue eyes to glare out.

“Hi,” you begin, hands thankfully too full to fidget. “I brought food.”

His eyes flick to the foil-covered platter in your hands. Then he swings the door wide and pivots on his heel.

“The cat comes too.”

Cat?

You glance down. Sure enough, Rasputin is standing by your legs, his remaining half a tail swishing. You sputter at him - didn’t even realize he snuck out - but all you get is his characteristic raspy “mah” noise. Right then.

He politely trots by your side as you enter, not even shy about your curiosity. The place is gutted, stripped walls and scuffed floors. It smells like dust and plaster and shaved wood. All the lights have been ripped out of the ceiling, exposing wires like nerve-endings.

There are two empty rooms to either side upon entry, a den and a dining room probably. The den even seems to be split into two, with one half sunk lower, accessible by a couple steps.

You follow your unexpected host through the “dining room,” which seems to be more of a satellite staging zone at the moment. There are piles of tools, stacks of materials, a little island of canvas bags. As you pass through, you notice a staircase, and even from the ground floor, you can see that it crosses over to the den on the other side.

The kitchen is stationed towards the back of the house. You try not to wince at the state of the counters. Pockmarked, blistered, scratched, burned, cracked laminate.

The floor has already been pried up to reveal smooth concrete. You scan it quickly for anything that could hurt Rasputin’s feet before entering.

Your neighbor gestures for you to set the platter down on an empty patch of counter, so you do, peeling back the foil.

“Cookies and sandwiches,” you explain just to have something to say.

“Why?” he asks.

You shrug. “To be nice.”

He stares. You blink back.

“I mean, you don’t have to eat them,” you add. “It would just be a waste.”

Rasputin chooses that moment to leap onto the counter, taking a moment to steady himself once he’s landed. With only one eye and a crooked leg, he’s not the most acrobatic or graceful of your babies, but he makes do.

To your shock, though, once he’s gained his bearings, he makes like he’s going to eat one of the sandwiches.

“Ras,” you gasp, surprised. “Absolutely not!”

The little shit doesn’t even resist when you nudge him away, just settles on his haunches, staring at your neighbor. And, to your confusion, your neighbor grunts.

“Konig! Krueger!” he barks.

That must be the rude one’s name. Krueger. You file that tidbit away.

“What’s your name?” You ask. “No one’s told me.”

He eyes you - dare you say suspiciously - letting the silence stretch.

“Nikto,” he rasps finally.

You finish introducing yourself just as the other two enter. Konig’s down to just the dust mask today, while Krueger seems to have donned one for himself.

“You,” Krueger says.

You arch your eyebrows back. “Me.”

“What brings you here?” Konig interjects, much friendlier.

“Well, you really seemed to want cookies yesterday, so I thought I’d bring some with lunch as a welcome to the neighborhood.”

He practically shoves Krueger to get to the kitchen. You politely get out of the way so he can indulge in your offering without getting trampled.

“Danke schön,” he says, scooping up a sandwich.

“No problem,” you answer, smiling.

Krueger deigns to sidle closer, inspecting the platter with a keen eye. Still, you think you see a bit of appreciation in them before he snatches up one of the sandwiches. For some (concerning) reason, you’re gratified by that. (You’ll just blame it on your habit of feeding ferals and strays.)

“I also wanted to give you three a little warning…” Three pairs of eyes pin you in place. You try not to grimace. “Everyone on this block is nosy as hell. They will literally peak in your yard and check your mail.”

“The mail?” Konig asks, appalled.

“Yeah, I started using a PO Box,” you sigh. You’ve only got so much sanity before you start taking sniper shots with a water gun.

“We will handle it,” Krueger says.

“I’m sure,” you demure. “Anyway, that was all. You can drop the platter off later - or I can come get it. It’s not like you’re far.”

You start looking for Rasputin, only to find him perched on Nikto’s broad shoulder. The man doesn’t even seem bothered by the claws digging through his shirt, scratching a finger at the calico’s cheek.

“Huh,” you say, surprised.

Nikto glances at you, pauses. “What?”

You snort at the bluntness, but grin. “Usually I’m the only one allowed to pet him.”

That’s three for three. Well, two and a half. Shithead could have been trying or escape or go for the ankles for all you know. But Krueger seemed to like her, so that counts for something.

“C’mon my little tank, let’s go,” you coo, approaching.

Rasputin nuzzles his face against Nikto’s once, gives him a parting mraw, then leaps into your waiting arms.

“Bye, guys!” You call, waving over your shoulder as you head for the door.

Konig is the only one to respond with a polite, “see you!” But you don’t take it to heart.

Masterlist

#cod #thoughts™️#my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #konig #konig x you #konig x reader #nikto x reader #sebastian krueger #krueger x reader #cod nikto #konig cod #neighbor!reader

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codewithmurad · 2 years ago

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Online Banking System Project using Spring Boot, JSP & MySQL | Spring MVC Project

Online Banking System is a dynamic web-based application by using which customer can perform multiple operations like money withdraw, deposit and do the money transfer, check the available balance and can see the transaction history

The project is designed so that students can learn about the project and understand the logic applied in the project based on the requirements, and thereby they can grow their skills.

#Online Banking System project using Spring Boot #Online Banking System #Online Banking System by Spring Boot #Online Banking System project with jsp #Online Banking System project by mysql

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iheartlargepatheticmen · 2 months ago

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Husband Price is sad. The military fucked him over. No comfort, just angst. Sorry gang

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You don't tie your shoelaces right.

The knots are crooked. One shoe is laced up a little wonkily. Not that you notice.

Price noticed, but he's not going to tell you. He can't stop looking, though. He's trying not to let it get to him, but it's one of his bad days.

He joined the military as a directionless seventeen year old. There was no real weight to the decision when he enlisted. He was just sick of filling out job applications.

And that's when his life started. That's what he always said. Johnathan Price's life started on the first day of basic training. In the past, he said it with a tone of pride

Now, it settles in the back of his mind. A sickening pit weighing behind his eyes.

Lacking a sense of self upon retirement was normal. He was in therapy for that. He was working on a renovation project in your home, a suggestion from his therapist to give him something to do with his hands. But as soon as work finished for the day, John felt hollow again.

His therapist said he was healing. But that didn't make sense to John. the effects of his service were the metaphorical wound, but wounds were isolated. A specific area that has been damaged in a specific way. But that's not what it felt like.

The effects of his job were ingrained into every part of his body. Ground into every pore, every string of connective tissue in his body. There was nothing about him, body or mind that wasn't connected to it.

Like the shoelaces.

A normal husband wouldn't even notice how his spouse ties their shoes.

A normal husband's mind doesn't jump to yearly presentations about mangled feet and ankles, to the list of complications that could spring from improperly laced boots.

A normal husband doesn't instinctually open his mouth to bark an order to tie them right.

A normal husband doesn't have to catch himself and hurriedly clamp his mouth shut before he does.

You and price were going out. A Saturday morning farmer's market. Something to get you out of the house together. He felt a wave of guilt.

This was going to be a sweet moment. He was supposed to enjoy it. To be present, with you. But his mind was elsewhere, consumed.

He marches. No. Walks alongside you, gets in the car, starts it, and drives on autopilot. His mind elsewhere.

God. The military affected him even now. The ability to march along, drive, and even make small talk whilst his mind was wrapped six layers deep. Unawares of his real surroundings was a hard earned skill. What did his therapist call it?

Disassociation. Right. Lots of soldiers do it.

You're talking. He's forcing himself to listen. He hums and responds to your small talk. Something about planting pepper bushes. Sure, love. He'll get on that.

You laugh, the unexpected reaction pulls him out of his mind. He glances over at you, confused, before fixing his eyes back on the road.

"What's so funny?"

You giggle, and he could feel your gaze on him

"You have this silly way of talking. You start a sentence practically shouting and quiet down to a normal volume as you talk. It's just a little funny."

Price furrowed his brow. His mind turned inside out again.

He was aware of that. Nobody had ever commented, though. Not even his nitpicky therapist.

He naturally spoke loudly. yet another example of his old job snaking into every part of his life.

For most of his life, he had to shout, loud and clear, to be heard. Whether it be to be heard over the roar of helicopter blades, to come through clearly through radio, or to be heard by his coworkers, whose hearing had degraded over years in the field.

But it's been two years since he's been in the field. He's been living in a quiet neighborhood. The loudest thing he encounters on a daily basis is a barking dog down the street. There's nothing to dampen his speaking voice now.

"John?"

His eyes snap up. He hadn't responded. Whoops.

"Sorry, love. 'Didn't notice I do that. I'll quiet down."

You say something else, maybe telling him it's okay. Maybe telling him you think it's cute. But he's consumed again.

John feels selfish.

He takes a smooth, controlled turn, forcing his face to relax. The GPS says ten minutes until he reaches the farmers market.

It's selfish of him to stay married to you. John didn't know how to be a man. Let alone a husband. He didn't know how to have a friend. Let alone a lover.

If he catches you doing something risky, the protective fear that shoots through him makes it impossible to dampen the urge to shout. He hates that. He hates that his first reaction to anxiety, to fear for your safety, is to bark an order at you. Like a soldier.

He coveted you softness. Your lack of involvement in the military. He hated that he couldn't be soft, too. He wanted to chastise you softly for accidentally pointing his nailgun at your feet. He wanted to laugh and coo at you to get down when he caught you climbing on an old chair to reach a shelf in the laundry room.

But he reacted to every shred of danger like your life was on the line. Like the lit candle dangerously close to your sleeve was going to put your name on a casualty report.

He can never meet your scared gaze after those moments, his voice still ringing in the air. He always takes the cowards way out and turns to walk away instead.

He pops open the center console and pulls out a tissue, handing it to you before he even registered you had sneezed. A moment of warmth graces his cheeks at the sound of you thanking him.

The GPS says five minutes. He tells you you're arriving soon. He placidly tells you to remind him to look for seeds for the pepper bushes you wanted. Already building a shopping list for the materials to build raised garden boxes to put them in.

That pacifies his guilt slightly. He loves you. He loves you like he's starving. He wants what's best for you. And he's terrified that what's best for you, isn't him. He banishes that thought by doing everything he can for you.

Like a barn cat, he dropped offerings at your feet in hopes you'll understand his ornery way of loving you.

Out of the car. Kiss on the cheek. Into the crowd. He never stopped being a soldier.

Those candles are expensive, you're so right.

He doesn't feel human.

Pepper shoots instead of seeds. He'll keep an eye out.

Is he human? He's lived a life so far removed from how humans are meant to act.

That lady was shoving people. Good job keeping your cool darling.

No. He is unrecognizable to his own species.

He kisses you on the cheekbone. He wonders if you know your husband isnt truly human.

You go home. He makes an excuse about a project that needs work before it gets dark.

John feels like a coward.

#captain john price #captain johnathan price #john price #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price #captain price x reader #captain price x you #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod 141 #cod fanfic #cod mw2 #cod headcanons #cod x reader #task force 141 #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #tf 141 x you

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princesssmars · 1 year ago

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sweet✰honey✰buckin

a rodeo!abby x reader. | p.ii

its a hot spring in the south and rodeo season is here. your hunt for a new fling leads you to an up-and-coming hotshot bull rider with an aversion to groupies. maybe you can change her mind.

wc : 2.509

contains : fxf relationship. barely attempted country slang. fluff. smut. oral and penetrative sex (r!receiving). nicknames (baby, darlin', a single bunny).

a/n : yeah guess who just listened to cowboy carter. idk why i posted about this before writing a single word but i didn't procrastinate this time yall clap it up and enjoy.

if you think about it, this was really all dolly partons' fault.

you could still picture the first time you saw her, the grainy recording on your grandmother's television, the gentle melodies from the blonde bombshell wrapping around you like a warm hug. you'd only been exposed to the south for a few weeks, and you already knew who you wanted your role model to be.

and the buckle bunny stuff also wasn't your fault! you were gorgeous, as people so loved to remind you at every twist and turn. and maybe you used your looks to your advantage sometimes. the first time was when you batted your eyelashes to make a boy do your project a day before it was due in junior year. he was... good-looking, you supposed. smart enough to be on the chess team, so he would do.

so you went to a little party with your friends that night. a spacious house, nice music, and good enough booze. everything was normal until you saw her. she was lean and mysterious, and under the lid of her black ridge top hat you could see her eyes tracking your body as you danced

so yes, her eating you in the back seat of her truck until you cried, holding down your hips when you tried to move changed your brain chemistry just a bit.

now a few years later, you're a little taller, a little smarter, and have collected a handful of studs for your belt. sure you've collected a...not so savory reputation in some of the local bars, but it was nothing a smile and a little flirting couldn't help. and its only going to get better; as the air warms and the trees bloom pussy spirit starts buzzing, and you know rodeo season is upon you again.

it was a hot night at the cow belle and the people even hotter as you scoped the scene from the rim of your glass. you and your friends were perched at the bar, daisy dukes heightened and crop tops tied under your busts.

"i heard red devil rosie'd be here tonight," savannah whispers to your group from beside you, her tall dark legs relaxed with her arm resting on the wood behind you. she always had a bit of a thing for redheads, and she'd had her eyes on rosie ever since it got around that she'd broken up with her fiancee.

"jesus, sav, the poor girl just got heartbroken, now you already wanna jump her bones?" charlize laughs, taking a hard swig of the beer in her hand. standing at a solid five feet and four inches tall the little kentuckian was a handful, always the first in line to ride a mechanical bull or jump in the front of a line dance.

"whats that saying men always use? as soon as you lose one hop on a 'nother?"

"you are deplorable."

as the girls banter back and forth your eyes focus on the rising commotion at the front of the bar. with a slight rise on your toes, making sure not to scuff your boots, and you can't help the growing smile on your face when you spot that blonde hair pushed down by her signature brown stetson.

abigail anderson, the rodeo's angel. she'd only been in the circuit for under two years and sponsors were lining up and begging for her to go pro. it was always easy to spot her, frequently trailed by her already professional friends manny alvarez and owen moore, along with a handful of groupies begging her to look their way.

luckily for you, manny had flirted with you a few weeks back and remained friendly after you turned him down, and he was heading straight towards you while his friends headed to a booth.

"oh god, hide your wives and girlfriends, the buckle brood is here!" he laughs, thanking the bartender for his beer and taking a swig.

"whatever manny, you're just upset our darling here didn't give you a chance." savannah winks.

"i think god was doing me a favor. y'know dixie's been trying to call you for about a week? the poor girls even thought about sending a bouquet. dixie. a bouquet."

"i made it clear before we slept together it would be a one-time thing. 's not my fault she wants more." you sigh.

that just makes the man laugh harder. he chats it up with charlize about how the rankings are looking when he notices how your gaze keeps wandering off, following your eye straight to-

"no."

"hm? i didnt say anything!"

"you said it with your eyes. and im gonna tell you with my mouth that you don't stand a chance. abby hates groupies." he shakes his head.

"abby, huh? i like it." manny grows exasperated as his words go in one ear and out the other. "'n and im technically not a groupie. never seen the woman in my life before now."

"well, look don't touch. or maybe don't look at all, before you put a spell on her or somethin."

you pout, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck and bring him into a hug. you see abby look your way in the corner of your eye and make sure to stretch your torso just a tiny bit until you're able to feel the bottom of your shirt ride up just that much more. when you see her eyes trail down your waist you hide a smile into the side of your arm.

you let the man go with a sweet goodbye, watching as he grabs two more beers and heads over to the booth and twisting your head before you can catch the blondes gaze.

its only a few minutes later when manny comes back with wide eyes and invites you over to sit with them.

sitting across from her, you can see why people are so attracted to her. she’s big, her muscles bulging out from the sleeves in her plaid shirt. despite her size she doesn’t try to take up more space then needed; confident but not cocky.

she clearly notices your glances, and maybe even the smile on your face when one of her past flings with a girl is brought up in conversation.

“so, you’ve had girlfriends before?” you ask, stirring your cocktail with the little colorful umbrella that came with it.

“no no, don’t answer that, you’ll regret it.” owen butts in, meeting your glare. you’d never talked before, but you were pretty sure you had slept with his fiancée a few years ago. last you’d heard they’d had a baby, maybe you’d offer to babysit sometime.

“why not? are you a groupie?” abby asks.

“can’t be a groupie if i barely know who you are. so why don’t we get to know each other better. preferably in private.”

“whatever you say, darlin.”

you hear the sudden sounds of a few hoots and claps and a familiar song that they always play to get people dancing.

“why don’t you show me some of your moves, big girl?”

she rolls her eyes, letting out a quiet sigh before following you onto the dance floor.

as much as she’s trying to fight it, you can tell abby is enjoying herself, learning quickly as you show her the moves to the dance. you’re a bit surprised she doesn’t know it already until she tells you she’s originally from utah.

“what, they don’t have country bars out in salt lake.”

“no, not like this. at least i never went to any of them.”

“wellll if you ever need a tour guide i’m available. whenever you want me.”

“god, manny told me about you.”

“really? what’s he say? i can probably guess.”

“so you know everybody thinks you’re a playgirl who sleeps with cowgirls for damn near a living and you don’t care?”

you shrug. “‘m just young and having fun. maybe everyone else, including you, is too uptight.”

“oh really? and what, you're supposed to help me loosen up?” she raises a single eyebrow. you don't answer, deciding to just look at her face for a while.

you like how pretty she is. the soft blue of her big eyes, the freckles dotted across her face that trail down her neck and disappear into her shirt. you feel pride in your chest when you see her cheeks redden.

when the song ends you pull away from her, ready to go over and tell your friends goodbye when a large hand grips your wrist, tugging your body back to its previous position. before you can question her you feel the weight of her hat sitting on your head.

"well? you gonna answer my question?"

you can still remember the looks on your friends face's when abby told them she was heading home, still gripping your hand. manny looked like he had just seen pigs fly.

it was hard to ignore the way she didn't let go of you until she was driving or the looks she was giving you when she was looking at the road, or how desperate she was when you finally got her here, dragging you to her room and attaching her strap like she'd die if she didn't get you in bed.

"i don't see what the big fuss is about, this really isn't that hard." you tease her, admiring the way she whines when you refuse to let her wrists go from your hands, using all your strength to keep her from flipping you over

but maybe you should learn when to shut your mouth because she roughly starts bucking her hips, smiling at the euphoric look on your face before you hide your face in her neck, trying and failing to muffle your moans.

"what? i thought you said this was easy?" she laughs when she hears your muffled groan, failing to ignore when you roughly bite her. you can tell she's getting frustrated at being restrained, her hands clenching into fists and repeatedly trying to get them from under your hands. "fuckin - cmon, baby, lemme help you."

god, she was so cute. you'd never say it out loud but you liked all the little nicknames she gave you, the gentle kisses she would place on your skin when she was warming you up for her. if you didn't have a one-time policy you would have chosen to keep her around. just for a little while.

but you could also see the inner turmoil in her eyes, the battle between dominance and submission. when you first met her you thought she'd be a stone top, so you decide to take advantage and reach one of your hands up to her hair and pull, forcing a loud moan from her as her mouth gaped open.

"not so uptight now, are you?" you laugh, awwing at her when she lets out a small whine.

you didnt realize until it was too late that it was a mistake to underestimate her because she was attaching her hands to your hips, planting her feet on the bed, and thrusting up into you like a wild bull, sucking a mark into your chest like she can't see you struggling to breathe.

"yeah, that's it. not so easy now, is it darlin'?"

and oh how you hate how you can't answer her, only able to muster up a weak glare as the pleasure grows, feeling the burning heat gross in your stomach. you're trying to hold off, not ready for this to end just yet, and hating the satisfied look on her face when your shaky arms wrap around her neck.

"you gettin' close, baby?" she maneuvers your legs to spread wider, hitting that spot inside you at just the right angle. god, everything feels so hot and overwhelming and so damn good-

"that's it, show me how pretty you look cummin around me." once she reaches a hand down and roughly rubs your clit it's over, moaning and gasping her name as your orgasm hits you like a freight train. she never stops her movements, in fact, you think she goes harder once she feels your nails dig into her arms.

your head flops onto her shoulder, basking in your post-orgasm bliss as her large hands rub up and down your back. mind hazy, you feel yourself drifting off and giving yourself a mental pat on the back when you're shocked upwards by a fierce thrust from below you, wide eyes darting to abby's.

"what, ya thought we were finished? if you wanna claim me you gotta earn it, bunny."

"oh no, abby i cant-" you try to decline, not sure you can take another before she presses you back into her sheets, manhandling your legs over her shoulders and your arms under your back. she can tell you're about to fight it because she's pushing her strap into you again.

it's embarrassing how close you are already after a few minutes, unable to move as she splits you open in a damn mating press. trying to hide your face in the sheets is futile so you have no choice but to keep eye contact with her, which only brings you closer to the edge because she's looking at you like she wants to fuck you until she physically can't anymore.

she's quieter now but you can hear her mumbling under her breath about how 'you're too damn fine, jesus you're gonna be the death of me,' and the next thing you know you're both cumming, feeling the wet mess grow between your legs.

she sinks into you, boneless on top of you as she gently rubs at your sides as you do the same for her head. after a few minutes she gets up, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips at your soft whine at the strap leaving you before heading off to the bathroom to get a washcloth.

it's gentle as you both clean the other, softly trailing the rag down her arms as she observes you. its almost...domestic. which you haven't done in quite a while. it feels nice.

when she gets up to throw it in the hamper you reach for your clothes on the floor before she questions you.

"excuse me, what do you think you're doin?"

"uhh...leaving?"

"nope, bad manners if i let you go home now," she tosses you a shirt from one of her drawers, finding her own pajamas before flopping on her bed. "i don't know what kinda girls in the circuit you've been seein', but I'm not like that."

you're on the fence, rubbing the fabric of her large shirt before putting it on and settling in next to her. it couldn't hurt just to sleep with her, right? "fine. but you should know i don't normally do...this."

"me neither. but there's a first time for everything, right?" she smiles, rubbing your hip from over the shirt before trailing it under. "besides, maybe we can go again in the morning. still need to prove to you I'm not uptight."

thank god for dolly parton.

sorry if this is shorter than expected i feel like death. can we all do rodeo!abby this summer. pretty please.

taglist : @euphternal @jupiter-502 @vqxen @youcallmeconnor @andersonlore i love you guys im giving you kisses rn

#rodeo!abby #buckle bunny!reader #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson #abby anderson smut #abby #tlou #abby x reader #tlou2 #tlou 2 #tlou smut #tlou x reader

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dizzydaisychains · 1 month ago

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𝒮𝓌ℯℯ𝓉 𝒟𝒾𝓈𝓅ℴ𝓈𝒾𝓉𝒾ℴ𝓃

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ pairing: sylus x reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ word count: 9.5k

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ summary: in which sylus swaps his pistols and blades for an apron and a whisk. (or alternatively: sylus secretly takes up baking lessons. chaos ensues.)

⊹ ࣪ ˖🍰₊˚⊹♡ ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65619802

Sylus is halfway through modifying his latest motorcycle when he hears the familiar pitter-patter of clumsy footsteps thundering excitedly down the stairs to the garage. He doesn’t even bother sliding out from underneath the engine to see who it is; just continues to twist the wrench as the footsteps draw nearer and nearer.

“Sylus! You’ll never guess what just happened!”

Without fail, his lips curl into that stupid grin that only you could provoke, which is a big deal, considering there was a time when Sylus found himself forgetting how to even smile in the first place. The perks of having an incredibly deadly reputation, he supposes.

“Sylus? Are you down here?”

The sound of your voice; it’s music to his ears. Sometimes, he calls you when he knows you’re asleep, just so he can hear you through the phone.

“I know you’re down here somewhere. I can smell your cologne…”

More footsteps, albeit, they’re a little more hesitant. Sylus has no doubt you’re beginning to use your Hunter instincts to find him. He considers revealing his whereabouts, but then again, he’s always loved the thrill of hide and seek, especially if you’re the one who gets to find him.

But as expected, he doesn’t have to wait long. Within seconds, a pair of Hunter’s boots comes to a halt beside his head.

“There you are!”

Sparkling boba eyes come into view as you crouch down and beam at him. Like the sun, you still manage to make even the dingiest of places seem like a five star hotel. Sunflowers and orange coloured skies. Freshly cut grass and cherry blossoms that blow in the late spring breeze. That’s what he sees when he looks up at you.

“What are you thinking about?” you ask, a crinkle by your eye as you continue to smile at him.

Wiping the sweat from his forehead, Sylus can’t help but reach out with his free hand to touch your face as you continue to look at him as if he has a secret to tell.

“Working on a new project?”

“Something like that,” Sylus hums, sliding out from underneath the engine, wiping his hands on his grease-covered tank top. As he sits up, he doesn’t miss the blush on your cheeks as you take in his appearance, your eyes tracing over his bare arms, the light sheen of sweat on his skin from the hard labour; it makes him smirk with satisfaction. He can’t help himself. He likes impressing you. Dragon instincts and all that.

Despite his disheveled appearance, you still throw yourself into his lap, arms wrapping loosely around his neck as you playfully tap his nose. Like clockwork, his hands find their way to your hips, squeezing lightly as he playfully tries to bite your finger as you giggle at his playful humour. Time slows for Sylus when he gets to have you all to himself like this. Sometimes he wishes he could catch every memory he has of you in little glass jars, stowing them away for a rainy day when his world feels like it’s falling apart.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you today, Kitten,” Sylus says, nuzzling against your hand as you continue to teasingly prod at his face. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

“Well, like I said, I have news,” you say, giving him a lopsided smile. “And also, maybe I just missed you.”

“Would it be a sin to say I missed you too?” Sylus responds, not even caring how completely and utterly whipped he sounds right now. “Do share your news. I’m curious to hear what exactly has put you in such a good mood.”

“I got promoted!” you squeal, your hands flying to your heart as if your body can’t contain your pride. “Jenna assigned me Team Captain of squad seven after the success of my last mission!”

Sylus nods in approval. “That’s quite the achievement, Sweetie. I’m very impressed.”

You give him a shy look, your blush spreading down to your neck. “I mean…I couldn’t have done it without the lead you gave me…if you hadn’t of had Mephisto leave behind the tracks for me to follow–”

“You still managed to take out three Wanderers by yourself,” Sylus interrupts, rubbing your arms reassuringly. “Fighting off a pack of Wanderers by yourself isn’t easy, especially when there was nobody around for you to resonate with. You had to rely on your own strength. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

Overwhelmed by his praise, you hide your face in your hands, which only makes Sylus laugh; a sound that’s rich like velvet.

“I suppose we should commemorate your big achievement, no?” Sylus asks, head tilting to the side as he uses his Evol to remove your hands from your face.

“Do you think your chef could make that special peanut butter noodle dish again? It was really good the other night,” you say, playing with the chain of his necklace.

“You deserve more than peanut butter noodles, Sweetie. Think bigger. Say the word and it’s yours.”

“Why must you always be so pedantic?”

“Because you’re worth more than all the riches in the world to me.”

“ Sylus …” You shiver as his right hand slides under your t-shirt, his cool fingertips tracing your stomach.

“Let me worship you like you deserve, Kitten,” Sylus says, letting his hands roam where his desires take him.

The day he doesn’t crave the sweet scent of your skin is the day the world might stop spinning. He wants nothing more than to have his way with you on the workshop table, but alas, he’s also a man of class, and you deserve only the finest mattress under your back as he fucks you. Patience is a virtue, and Sylus is a man that likes to take his time, especially when it comes to pleasuring his beloved.

“So, what do you say, a little celebration to commemorate your shining moment?” he asks, voice a little rough. God, the things you do to him. He can already feel the blood of lust rushing down to his lower half.

“And what exactly do you have in mind?” you ask, feigning innocence as Sylus’s fingers continue to wander over your bare skin.

“Depends on what you want.”

“Well, I have been craving red velvet cake recently. But the bakery across the street from my apartment is closed for a month due to maintenance. What a shame.”

“Duly noted. But that doesn’t mean we can’t still eat all the red velvet cake that Deepspace has to offer,” Sylus says softly, hands sliding upwards to the clasp of your bra.

“Anything else you desire? I can make anything happen.” He fiddles playfully with the metal clip as you lean in and press a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I’m also feeling a little greedy today. I think I might need you all to myself this evening,” you say, biting your lip.

Sylus buries his face into your chest and lets out a growl.

“ Fuck, I was hoping you would say that.”

Without a second to waste, he lifts you up, carrying you all the way to his bedroom as you whisper nothing but filthy desires into his ear.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

Sylus only realises he’s lost track of time after his third orgasm, your hands tugging on his silver strands, begging him to never let you go; that being close to him is enough to make you never want to leave this room. He adores when you’re like this for him, adores your sweet whines and your desperate moans. It consumes him, his greed for you has no end, and he knows you feel the same, especially now, with your legs wrapping around his waist, holding him in a vice grip.

“Sylus, baby , you fill me up so good. Never stop fucking me like this,” you moan, holding onto him for dear life.

Fuck, Sylus could fuck you like this for days if he could. But he’s not sure you can hold out for much longer.

He leans closer towards you, caging you in with his arms as he pistons his hips faster. The bed frame shakes as you continue to beg him for everything he has, and well , Sylus can’t possibly deny his darling what she wants.

“You’re such a good girl for me, Kitten. Always so hungry for my cock. You were made for it, weren’t you?” he grunts, and all you can do is bite your lip as you feel your third orgasm of the night coming.

“Sylus…I’m so fucking close…” you shut your eyes as he takes you over the edge.

“Come for me, Kitten,” Sylus coos, lips pressing against your neck.

You cry out as you feel the knot in your stomach unravel, Sylus whispering sweet nothings into your neck as you continue to grind on his cock, the sound of skin slapping skin filling the room as he guides you through your high, gently rubbing your clit as you come down from euphoria.

Not wanting to pull out, Sylus falls back, pulling you with him as you continue to lie together, his cock remaining deep inside of you as you both catch your breath, his fingers tracing circles on your back as you rest your head on his bare chest. Sylus wonders briefly how he got so lucky. He must have been a hero in at least one of his past lives to deserve an angel like you.

Eventually, despite your protests, he pulls out, carrying you to the bathroom and running you both a much needed bath. He makes sure you feel like a princess, your body between his legs and your back firmly resting against his chest as he massages you with a sponge, wiping away the sweat and grime from your soft skin.

By the time he finishes drying your hair, you’re already half asleep, so he tucks you in and kisses you goodnight before taking out his phone, researching the best place to buy a red velvet cake.

“What’re you lookin’ at?”

Sylus ruffles your hair as you squint at the faint glow of his phone screen.

“Are you free tomorrow Kitten?” he asks, zooming in on a michelin star cafe that apparently serves the best red velvet cake around.

You stifle a yawn. “I think so. Why do you ask?”

“Because I want to take you somewhere.”

“Please tell me you’re not bringing me along for another plane-hijacking scheme.”

“Why must you always assume the worst when it comes to me?”

“Because it’s you . Just because we’re seeing each other, it doesn’t mean you’re not an insanely wanted criminal. All the people at the Nest would do anything to have a chance of turning you in.”

Sylus doesn’t have a witty comeback for that, so instead, he uses his Evol to hold you down while he smothers you with ticklish kisses, your laughter tinkling around the room like christmas bells.

II.

If someone had told Sylus that he’d be cafe hopping with a Hunter a few months ago, he probably would have told them the odds of that ever happening would be zero to none. He’s a man that likes whisky on the rocks at a rooftop bar, a man who seeks plush red carpet and seats made from only the most expensive leather on the market. Pastel walls and wooden chairs don’t really do it for him, and eating too much sugar makes him feel unfocused in combat.

But then again, as he looks at you devouring your second slice of red velvet cake in a white lace dress that makes you look like a fairy, he thinks that life has funny ways of changing a man’s disposition.

“I think this might be the best red velvet cake I’ve ever had in my life,” you say, examining the piece of red sponge on your fork with hearts in your eyes.

“If you keep eating at that pace, you’ll give yourself indigestion,” Sylus chides, sipping his coffee and giving you a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t expect someone like you to enjoy the nostalgic taste of red velvet cake. It’s a childhood birthday classic.”

“I never had birthday parties as a child. For my eighth birthday I learned how to use a gun.”

“Of course you did.” You roll your eyes as you push the plate towards him, motioning for him to take a bite.

“Not a chance, Kitten.”

“How do you know you don’t like it when you haven’t even tried it?”

“I can already feel my blood sugar spiking by just looking at it.”

“So you’ll jump off a plane with no parachute but you won’t try some red velvet cake?”

A man that is relentless; even if you beg for mercy he won’t spare you. That’s what the rumours say about him, the kind of whispers heard in the corner of a dingy bar. Apparently no one can persuade Sylus to do something he doesn’t want to do. If you try, he’ll eat you, guts and all.

They’re wrong of course. There is one person who can persuade him. And the proof is here, right in this cafe, as Sylus takes your fork and scoops a piece of red velvet cake into his mouth.

“Well?”

The hope in your eyes makes him hesitate.

“It could use a little more cocoa.”

“So you like it?”

And really, he should just say no, but saying no would mean making your smile disappear, so instead, he grits his teeth and stuffs another piece of sugary sponge down his throat.

“It’s not too bad after all,” he lies, and you clap your hands in delight.

“I knew you’d like it. See! You’re just a big sweet, softie, really.” You smile with satisfaction as you take the plate back, using the spare fork to finish the leftovers as Sylus admires the way you sparkle in the afternoon sunlight.

“I wish I could eat red velvet cake every day,” you sigh as you finish the last bite and stare down at the empty plate with remorse. “If someone could make red velvet cake like this for me every day…I think I’d marry them.”

Sylus raises an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“What? Jealous again?” you tease.

Sylus scoffs. “No. Just surprised how easy you’d marry someone like that.”

“Never underestimate a woman that knows what she wants.” You wipe your mouth with a napkin and hold out your hand.

“Now, which cafe are we trying next? I was thinking of one that sells pineapple cake…there’s one nearby that I found online…”

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

That evening, after Sylus drops you home, he spends the drive home thinking about the weight of your words from the afternoon.

“If someone could make red velvet cake like this for me every day…I think I’d marry them.”

It’s no secret that Sylus would marry you in the morning if he could. But perhaps that’s jumping the gun. However , he is a man that enjoys a challenge when he’s confronted with one. And if the winning result would be your hand in marriage; how could he back down from that?

Besides, it’s just baking a cake; how hard could it possibly be?

III.

As it turns out, Sylus may have slightly overestimated his baking skills.

Actually, scrap that; he definitely overestimated his baking skills.

It’s not often he finds himself struggling; he built a whole fucking empire from the ground up. No, the word struggle shouldn’t even be in his list of extensive vocabulary, but here he is, three in the morning, covered in frosting and staring at– what can only be described as –a disaster.

So yes, he’s beginning to wonder if he made a huge mistake as he continues to stare at the toppling mess in front of him. Maybe he was over-ambitious making it a triple-tiered cake, but he had followed the recipe down to a T, or at least, he thought he had. Maybe he had added too much flour? Or maybe it was the baking soda. The cake does seem rather flat. Perhaps the temperature of the oven was too much? He just can’t seem to put his finger on it.

Not that any of that matters anymore. He sighs as he gives the sad excuse of a cake another once-over. Even the icing couldn’t save his calamity. How disappointing. It’s not often things go wrong for someone like him; he is the leader of Onychinus after all. He crafts plans all the time, heck , he even broke out of the most severely guarded prison in all of Deepspace, yet for some reason, it seems that even someone of his calibre has their limits.

The door slides open as Luke and Kieran poke their heads into the kitchen.

“Everything okay in here, Boss? We thought we smelled something burning,” Luke chirps as Kieran flicks him the head, sensing Sylus’s bad mood.

“It’s nothing to be concerned about,” Sylus grumbles, using his Evol to flick through the pages of the cook book, searching for an answer to his errors.

“Uh…Boss…is that supposed to be…a new form of punishment for our enemies?” Luke points at the lopsided cake on the counter.

“It’s supposed to be a red velvet cake,” Sylus deapans, to which, Luke sputters out a laugh before Kieran slaps his twin on the back.

“Not many people succeed on their first attempts of baking,” Kieran says, kicking Luke discreetly in the shin as his brother continues to stifle his laughter under his mask.

“No need to lie for my sake, Kieran. I can accept defeat every once in a while.” Sylus folds his arms, his lips forming a thin line as he uses his Evol to poke at the crust of the cake. A hollow thud rings throughout the kitchen.

“Is it…supposed to be rock solid, Boss? Ow! ” Luke rubs his arm as Kieran once again curses him under his breath.

Sylus scowls, flicking his wrist and sending the cake flying into the trash before pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Well this won’t do at all. Buying one won’t suffice either. He’s already made up his mind that something like this has to be special; holy matrimony is on the line.

“No need to fret, Boss! I have the perfect solution for you!” Sylus has zero time to react as Luke shoves a phone screen under his nose.

“Baking classes with Linkon’s number one pâtissier,” Sylus reads, peering through his glasses at the advertisement with narrowed eyes. “Learn how to bake everything from cupcakes to pavlova in a month.”

Sylus gives Luke a look. Two words to describe it? Severely unimpressed.

“You’re not being serious , are you?”

“Think about it, Boss,” Luke taps his chin in thought. “Miss Hunter said that she would marry anyone who could bake her red velvet cake for the rest of her life. Wouldn’t it be an accomplishment to actually be that man?”

Sylus raises an eyebrow, weary of the veracity of the twins’ information. This wouldn’t be the first time they’ve tried to set him up for embarrassment, though , over time, he’s grown to love their company in the base (not that he’d ever admit it to the two troublemakers of course).

There’s nothing wrong with accepting help every now and again. Besides, it’s technically upskilling in a department where he clearly lacks skill (plus he’s an absolute sucker for your adorable smile when you eat sweet treats).

“How do I sign up?”

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

And that’s how Sylus finds himself covered in flour and wearing a pink floral apron two days later, his right eye twitching in frustration as he stares down at yet another one of his abysmal attempts at baking. This time, his victim is a batch of chocolate chip cookies that have somehow come out of the oven burnt to a crisp with the consistency akin to the shell of metal bullets.

Even his Evol–renowned for its’ infinite power–couldn’t help in this situation. A few of the other bakers give him looks of pity as they ice their immaculate cookies with insipid pastel coloured rosettes. He must be making a rather sour expression; most of the bakers have moved away from his station, only a brave girl with a curly ponytail seems to be brave enough to stay beside him.

“Your name is Skye, isn’t it? Don’t be too hard on yourself,” she says to him as Sylus tosses his cookies into the trash. “Baking isn’t as easy as it looks.”

“Speak for yourself. Yours turned out fine,” Sylus snaps, expecting the girl to back off. However, she remains unphased. In fact, she simply pushes the bag of flour towards him, giving him a look.

“You’ll never improve if you don’t keep trying,” she says, matter-of-factly.

Sylus narrows his eyes. “Hard work cannot overcome lack of talent,” he bites back, and the girl has the audacity to shrug at him.

“How about we make them together this time, no? Here, I’ll show you…”

A lone soldier; Sylus often finds it hard to accept help from others. But the girl is persistent, and Sylus can only sigh and stir the new mixture as the girl–who is apparently called Ceclia–pours the melted butter into the dry ingredients.

“The secret is to brown the butter. It gives the cookies a richer, nuttier flavour,” Cecilia says, gently folding the ingredients together as Sylus watches.

“It also helps to bake with love, y’know. Although I’m unsure if someone like you is capable of such…emotions…” Cecilia gives him a sheepish look as she continues to stir the mixture.

Love. Yes, there was a time when Sylus wondered if he was capable of love too. Aeons ago now, back when horns sprouted from his head and villagers chased him through the mountains with pitchforks. Love is for the weak ; that was what he was told as a child. Love can cost you everything, even your life. It’s an incurable illness. A double-edged katana that leaves scars that will never heal.

Except, love is none of those things. Love is soft moans in a four-poster bed. A lazy afternoon on the couch as soft fingers comb through his hair. Rose-tinted lips trailing down his neck. A hand that pulls him out of the chasm he flung himself in as punishment for being a monster.

“Love is one of the few things that life has gifted me,” Sylus says eventually.

Cecilia sighs, a dreamy look on her face as she stares off into the distance. “Of course, I should have known. No man I’ve ever met has put in this much effort into a class like this.”

A few girls sigh in agreement, giving Sylus wistful looks, their attitudes towards him changing from fearful to longing as they whisper amongst themselves, wondering who the lucky woman could be to have melted his tsundere-like heart.

“She showed me that life doesn’t have to be a maze of thorns,” Sylus says, gently taking the bowl from under Cecilia, beginning to mix the dough himself.

“The least I can do is bake her a cake to show my appreciation.”

That seems to do it for his audience. One of the girls audibly squeals that this is even better than a TV drama.

Cecilia beams at him, her eyes glinting with a newfound determination.

“We better whip you into shape then. Don’t lose hope! Here, I’ll show you how to fold in the chocolate chips so they don’t sink to the bottom of the dough.”

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

Sylus buys you flowers on the way home from the class that night. Just leaves them on your doorstep and disappears before you can answer the door, the only trace that he’d been there being a note signed with red ink.

To my beloved,

As the stars burn and the planets orbit, just know that wherever you are, my darling, all I do is dream of you.

S x

IV.

Once upon a time; Sylus believed he could do anything.

With an energy manipulating Evol and an Aether Core permanently lodged in his eye; there’s not much that can really stop him. And even on the rare occasion that something doesn’t go according to plan, his troubleshooting is above distinction level. It boils down to three things really, because most things in life you can either:

a) Fight your way out of

b) Talk your way out of

c) Stall your way out of

Unfortunately for Sylus though, those three solutions have officially been deemed useless in Sparkling Sprinkles ; a locally owned organic grocers in Linkon, and the only place (apparently) where you can buy–

“I’m sorry, sir. But we have unfortunately sold out of our premium macadamia nuts for the day.”

Sylus stares in disbelief at the cashier as swirls of black and red smoke unconsciously ripple out of his curled fists.

“ Sold out? But the store only opened an hour ago.”

The cashier gives him an apologetic bow as he shakes his annoyingly round head.

“I’m sorry, sir. The Linkon macadamia nuts are one of our most popular products, and there’s a little bit of a shortage right now. Our next shipment is due in next Thursday.”

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Sylus takes a deep breath, trying to keep his Evol under control as his mood continues to plummet. Not only does he feel like a fish out of water being in a shop called Sparkling Sprinkles , but he specifically changed his sleep schedule so he could buy the god damn nuts for his miso-caramel apples with macadamia crumble.

“Are you sure there’s not even fifty grams left?”

“I’m sorry, sir, we just sold our last few grams to that lady over there.” The cashier motions towards a girl with boba eyes and a bob haircut.

“ Skye? Is that you?”

So much for going incognito. He should have known a baseball cap wouldn’t be enough to hide his identity. Sylus doesn’t even have time to run as none other than Tara from the Hunters Association starts running towards him, a bag of the oh-so-precious macadamia nuts in her arms.

It only dawns on him as Tara skids to halt in front of him that if she’s here, that means–

A finger prods his back. He doesn’t even need to turn around, because his senses are already being drenched in the familiar scent of flowers and, ah, yes, there you are, circling him as if he’s an animal in the zoo, because; what the hell is he doing in Linkon in broad daylight?

“Let me guess; another business endeavour?” you say, eyes playful as Sylus stares down at you with a poker face.

“Neglecting your post while on duty, Miss Hunter?” Sylus replies.

“Funny. Even the best Hunters need a break every now and again.” You hold up an iced coffee and a cinnamon roll, giving him a cheeky smile. It irks Sylus seeing that mediocre cinnamon roll in your hands, knowing he could probably make a much fluffier one that hasn’t been sitting in the open air since this morning.

“Shouldn’t you be dealing with your business endeavors elsewhere? I doubt there’s anything of interest to you in a place like this,” you tease.

“You’d be surprised, there’s many places where you can find me,” Sylus says ominously as Tara draws an invisible line connecting him to you. He can see the numbers crunching in her head as she tries to decipher if he’s flirting with you or not.

“ Uhhh …Skye, are you here for these?”

The flirtatious tension shatters as Tara shoves the macadamia nuts in between the two of you. If it wasn’t for his skill of composure, Sylus thinks he might have caused the shop’s window to shatter.

“It appears they’ve sold out,” Sylus says, folding his arms as Tara gives him a sympathetic look.

“You can have mine if you like!” She shoves the bag into his hands, and before he can object, her Hunter’s watch is beeping.

“Crap! I forgot we have a meeting in ten minutes.”

Sylus watches as she links your arm and drags you towards the exit.

“Wait! Tara, I just need to ask Syl–I mean Skye a few more questions–”

“No time! Call him later!”

“Tara let me go –”

But you’re already halfway out the door, and Sylus can finally breathe a sigh of relief as he looks down at the macadamia nuts in his hands.

Close call.

Leaning against the door of his porsche, Sylus hastily dusts the icing sugar from his slacks as he checks his watch, hoping he isn’t too late. You usually finish work at eight on Wednesdays, and since he’s in Linkon after another baking class, he decided to swing by the Hunters Association building to surprise you.

Shifting uneasily, he stares down at the box in his hands. Today’s lesson was banana bread, and Sylus has decided to gift the results to you, except, he’s not going to tell you he’s the one who made it. He’s still not satisfied with his skills; but a little practice run wouldn’t hurt.

“Sylus? Is that you?”

Sylus looks up just in time to see you running towards him, your arms outstretched as you throw yourself into his chest.

“What are you doing in Linkon? Did something bad happen? Did a deal go wrong?”

Sylus tuts as he watches your eyes scan his body for signs of an injury. “Why do you always assume the worst when you see me?”

“I can’t help it. You’re always getting yourself into life threatening situations,” you complain, placing your hands on your hips and giving him a stern look.

Noticing the neatly wrapped box in Sylus’s hands, you raise an eyebrow of curiosity.

“ Oh? A gift for Linkon’s number one Hunter?” you say, a sly smile spreading across your lips as you attempt to swipe the box, but Sylus is too quick, and he uses his Evol to dangle the box over your head as you continue to try and grab it.

“Such a greedy little kitten. Who says it’s for you?”

“You’re such a jerk sometimes.”

A soft punch hits his chest as Sylus chuckles, wisps of black and red swirling around the box as it lowers carefully into your hands. Unwrapping the bow, your eyes light up as you peek inside.

“ Ooooh banana bread! Where did you get this?” you squeal with delight as you sniff the freshly baked crust.

Sylus tries to act nonchalant, shrugging his shoulders. “I passed a bakery on the way here. You’ve been craving sweet treats lately, and I’d be a terrible boyfriend if I didn’t fulfill such cravings.”

“No need to look so smug about it,” you huff, taking a slice from the box and promptly stuffing the entire thing into your mouth.

“Do you even chew your food before swallowing, Sweetie?”

“I skipped lunch today,” you say through a mouthful of banana bread. “By the way, this tastes incredible. Seriously, you’re great at finding the best quality version of everything.”

Warmth fills his chest at your words. He thinks he may owe Luke and Kieran a thank you when he sees them later.

“Fancy going to see a drive-in movie?” Sylus asks, opening the car door because already knows the answer.

“Depends. Are you going to buy me popcorn?”

“Yes, no, maybe so,” he chides, which only makes you roll your eyes as you slide into the passenger seat.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

And it’s not that Sylus finds the film boring; it’s just hard to concentrate when he has you sprawled out on the backseat, your hands working up and down his hard cock as you take a breath before swallowing him whole, your eyes giving him that deliciously coy look the entire time.

Choking a little, Sylus throws his head back in pleasure and lets his instincts take over, his hips bucking up into your mouth, as if you two are engaging in some sort of call and response.

“Kitten, you’re so good for me, so beautiful with your mouth full,” Sylus pants, his eyes focused on you and only you. He uses his hands to lean against the window as he continues to fuck your pretty little mouth, the car shaking a little with the force of his thrusts.

“I’m not going to last if you keep spoiling me like this,” Sylus sighs after a few minutes, forcing himself to pull out as he feels an orgasm nearing.

“I need to feel you more.”

“Yes, Sylus, please. I’m so fucking wet,” you whine, squirming in pleasure as he gently traces his fingers over your wet heat.

Precome drips from the tip of his cock as he switches positions, hiking up your skirt and using his Evol to slip your panties off as he gently places you on his throbbing cock. You moan as you feel him enter you, the familiar girth filling you up until you’re pleasantly full and rocking your hips, begging him to start moving.

“Always such a needy little kitten,” Sylus teases, but he gives you what you want anyway, because, well, he wants you as much as you want him.

The world turns into a blur after a while, Sylus making sure he’s pleasuring you as he chases his own euphoria, the windows fogging up as his breathing gets heavier, soon turning into growls as he fucks you hard and fast against the expensive leather seats of his porsche.

“Sylus, baby, don’t stop,” you whine as you dig your nails into his shoulders, the pleasure making you see the moon and the stars. “ God, I love you.”

Sylus’s hips stutter at the words, caught off guard that despite the filthy sounds you’re making, you still manage to tell him the words he wants to hear the most.

“I love you too, my darling,” he whispers into your ear, rocking his hips slowly, making sure you hear him. “I’ve loved you for centuries.”

He leans down and kisses the tip of your nose, but it’s not enough, and you pull him in for a deeper kiss, coming up for air eventually to give him a pleading look. You don’t even need to say anything; Sylus just knows from the look in your eyes.

He speeds up his thrusts one last time as you both reach your climax, and when it’s all over, and the post-sex haze begins to fade away, you look at Sylus with curiosity, a burning question on your mind.

“Why are there three bags of caster sugar under your seat?”

“Miscellaneous items. Just ignore them.”

“But– ow! Hey! Sylus! Did you just bite my neck? I told you I can’t go into work with another hickey…”

VI.

Grocery shopping is a menial task that Sylus often avoids when possible; he seldom has time for such mundane errands. He thinks you’re the only person in Linkon who can convince him to push a trolley around a supermarket on a Sunday afternoon, his eyes lazily flickering from one brand of cereal to the next.

“Hmmm…”

He watches as you examine a roll of frozen puff pastry, tapping your chin as your eyes seem to scrutinise the fine print instructions on the box.

“It’s a shame I don’t know how to make puff pastry from scratch,” you say, a little absent-mindedly as you continue to read the box.

“It’s not too hard, really. You just have to make sure you use cold butter instead of room temperature butter. But I suppose the lamination process of folding the butter between the various layers of dough can be quite challenging in the beginning…” Sylus trails off before cursing himself internally as you look at him, a very confused expression on your face.

“How…?”

“Cooking programmes,” he says smoothly, not batting an eye. “I’ve been getting into them lately. They’re usually the only thing the cable shows after two in the morning.” Thank God he’s an excellent liar (or, maybe he isn’t, because you’re looking at him as if he has two heads).

“Seems a little out of character for you, no?”

Sylus tries to remain nonchalant as you fold your arms, suspicion radiating off you in waves.

“There’s a lot of things you still don’t know about me, sweetie. Things that won’t show up in my file at the Hunters Association.”

“Alright, you win. I won’t question your taste any further.” You throw up your hands in mock surrender as you toss the frozen puff pastry into the trolley, giving him one last suspicious look before you continue walking down the aisle, leaving Sylus to let out a sigh of relief.

That was–yet again–another close call, Sylus thinks to himself, watching as you waltz ahead, seeming to have already forgotten about the whole ordeal. It’s not like him to slip up like that, then again, his biggest weakness is you , so why should he be surprised? Sometimes all it takes is one word from you and he’s falling to his knees, absolutely powerless. He wonders what his enemies would think of him if they knew a Linkon Hunter had him on a leash.

Lost in thought, he finds himself stranded in the vegetable section until you find him, laughing as you tug on his sleeve, asking him if he wants to go for coffee after grocery shopping. He’s about to say yes until he remembers he’s supposed to be practicing how to whip meringues this afternoon.

“There’s an auction I have to attend, unfortunately,” he lies, ruffling your hair as you give him your signature pout.

“Can’t you send Luke and Kieran instead?”

Sylus leans down and kisses your pout away. “Not this time, Kitten.”

“Sylus! We’re in public,” you grumble, pushing him away as you cover your blushing cheeks with your hands.

“Ask me if I care,” Sylus says with a shrug before walking off, leaning against the trolley as he whistles out of tune.

“Unbelievable,” you sigh, but you can’t help but smile at his brashness.

That’s Sylus for you; a man who’s never afraid to show the world that you belong to him and him only.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

“Boss man! Are you sure you’re the one who made this?”

Luke and Kieran clap their hands excitedly as Sylus places a picture-perfect fresh cream meringue tower in front of them.

“If you don’t believe me, ask Mephisto,” he scoffs, scarlet eyes glaring at the twins as they look at each other and have the actual audacity to laugh.

“Who would have known Boss would be such a softie when it comes to Miss Hunter,” Luke teases.

Two seconds later, Luke finds his face being dunked into the meringues by a familiar cloud of red and black Evol.

Kieran howls with laughter as Sylus walks away, a smirk on his face as Luke’s complaints fill the kitchen, his sneezes echoing the marble hallways as he tries to get the cream out of his nostrils.

VII.

It’s not everyday that Sylus finds himself dangling from a helicopter on a Thursday evening, but he supposes it’s something to be expected to happen at least once in this line of work. Somehow the bastards had managed to put an Evol suppressor around his neck, and after being shot multiple times, his healing powers are beginning to wane. It’s not enough to kill him of course, but it’s enough to slow him down. Usually in this kind of situation, he would have used his Evol to teleport somewhere, but the suppressor is choking his powers.

“I will destroy Onychinus with these protocores!”

Sylus scoffs as he looks up, only to be met with the scene of a man with a comically curled moustache bearing his teeth at him as he waves his gun around like a lunatic. Sylus cannot believe he has to spend his Thursday night with this buffoon.

“Onychinus must die!”

“Drop me a line I haven’t heard before,” Sylus sighs, his arms starting to feel heavy as the helicopter rocks violently against the wind. If he wasn’t such a known villain, people down below could easily mistake him for some kind of hero from a comic book, and honestly , this whole situation is ridiculous. He knew he should have sent Luke and Kieran to deal with this. Fuck , it’s not like him to not think things through.

Or maybe it’s time to face the facts; the baking is taking over his life.

And shit , that reminds him, he left his victoria sponge cake in the oven just before he left. He’d anticipated the job would only take him forty minutes at the most.

Annoyed, he lets go of one of the helicopter legs, digging around in his trouser pocket for his phone, which only causes the man to look at him with absolute terror, because what kind of guy just dangles so nonchalantly with one hand on a helicopter leg that’s about a thousand metres above ground level?

Unbothered, Sylus speed dials Luke and Kieran, pressing the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he places his hand back on the helicopter leg.

“Yes, Boss?”

“The sponge cake in the oven. Take it out. I won’t be home in time to do it.”

“Boss! Is everything okay? There’s news reports of an unregistered helicopter flying around Linkon city, and there’s an unknown civilian dangling from the leg–”

“Did they at least describe me as handsome?”

“Wait, Boss…are you the one dangling from the helicopter?”

“Just take the cakes out of the oven. I’ll be back at the base to ice it, so you better make sure it doesn’t sink.”

“Uh…are you sure you don’t need backup, Boss?”

“Just do as I say.”

Sylus hangs up, just in time to see another helicopter arrive; a Hunters Association helicopter to be exact. Just his luck. With them around, he needs to make a quick exit, but there’s a batch of protocores that this goon has, and they are too tempting to leave behind for the Hunters to take.

But it looks like the Hunters already have their eyes on the prize as Sylus watches with narrowed eyes as a rope ladder lands adjacent to him and a Hunter climbs down, her hair tied up into a ponytail that Sylus knows all too well.

“Having fun?” you say with a cheeky grin as you salute him.

Sylus gives you a dry look. “Fancy meeting you here, Kitten.”

“There’s a bunch of protocores that this loser is smuggling. Naturally, the Association had to intervene. Some of them are pretty high grade,” you explain, still taking in Sylus’s current predicament. “How did he manage to put an Evol suppressor around your neck?”

“I was preoccupied. You wouldn’t be a darling and press the release button for me, would you? As you can see, my hands are tied here.”

“Depends. There’s a pretty hefty bounty on your head. I could make millions if I turned you in.”

“That’s why you should make a deal with me. Word on the street is that I’m quite fond of them.”

“Anything else you’re fond of?”

“If I told you, you’d call me a liar.”

“Someone has your heart?”

“She has my heart, body and soul.”

“Sylus! I’m supposed to be working here!”

Sylus smirks as he revels in the way his words make you flustered. He smiles as you press the release button on the Evol collar, the familiar feeling of power surging through his veins as he turns his attention back to the idiot who has seemingly lost all confidence in himself and is currently in the middle of strapping a parachute onto his back.

“I’m a little busy today, Sweetie. Think you and your Hunters can handle this fool? You can have the protocores as a compensation for cleaning up my mess.”

“What? You’re just giving the protocores to the Association? No catch?”

“I have you, what more could I ask for?”

“Sylus you can’t just– wait! Get back here!”

But Sylus is already free falling through the air, as if he’s flying. No matter how many times he finds himself plunging recklessly through the air, the adrenaline never gets old. He can hear you cursing his name in the distance, but he knows you’ll still call him tonight anyway.

In the meantime, he has a Victoria sponge to ice.

VIII.

The late Summer breeze gently tickles Sylus’s face as he sits out on the balcony, glasses perched on his nose, idly flicking through a The Art of Pastry: Volume III as the twilight sky provides a serene backdrop for his reading.

“Sylus?”

Sylus snaps the book shut and hides it under a cushion as the balcony door slides open and you slowly step out, barefoot in a chiffon sundress with your hair damp from the shower. Like a midsummer fairy, there’s a faint glow on your sun-kissed skin as you waltz over to him and plant yourself firmly in his lap.

“Why does your house smell like chocolate chip brownies?” you ask as you fiddle with his open collar.

“Luke and Kieran must be up to something,” Sylus lies breezily, snapping his fingers and using his Evol to summon one of his poetry books.

“Strange. I thought I saw some sweet treats stashed away in one of your kitchen cupboards.”

“Snooping around for some dirt on me?” Sylus asks, raising a silvery eyebrow.

“Actually, I was looking for a snack, dummy.” You flick his forehead and move to jump off his lap, but Sylus is too quick, and he uses his Evol to hold you in place.

“You always play dirty,” you complain, ready to launch a fist attack on his chest, but Sylus has other plans, and he snaps his fingers, swapping his book for a plate of freshly baked brownies.

You clap your hands at the magic trick, making him smile as he watches you dig in.

“Where do you even find brownies like these? And they’re still warm.”

Sylus feels his heart swell as your words fill him with pride. Little do you know that these are once again, a product of his hard work. According to Cecilia (and the majority of the class) his sea salt brownies are unparalleled.

“Here, you’ve got to try some!”

Sylus opens his mouth as you slip a piece into his mouth. Yeah, they’re pretty fucking good. He’s tempted to tell you about the baking classes right here and now, but then he remembers the big plans he has. He’s come this far. It would be a shame to let the cat out of the bag after all his hard work.

“Why are you always so lost in thought these days? You didn’t even complain about the brownies being too sweet,” your soft fingertips brush the loose bangs from Sylus’s face, making him wonder how he got so lucky that destiny blessed him with a second chance to be with you.

“Maybe my palette is maturing with age,” Sylus jokes dryly.

“You can pretend all you want, but I know you like sweets, no matter how much you complain about them being full of sugar. The base is full of them recently. Marshmallows, salted caramel, chocolate chips; is Onychinus branching out into the sweet treat industry now too?”

Sylus scoffs. “I already have enough on my hands without dealing with opening a bakery.”

“Maybe when we get old and retire we can open a cafe together. We can even call it Crow and Kitten ,” you tease, but Sylus can see your dreams dancing in your eyes.

“And what plans do you have for our cafe?” he asks, a little curious.

It’s hard to imagine living a normal life after everything he’s been through. Given what’s written in the stars for him, just surviving from day to day is an achievement. But as he listens to you talk about growing old together, Sylus is beginning to wonder if it’s a luxury that he can afford in this lifetime. He knows better than anyone how fragile hope can be. But for you; it’s always worth the risk.

“...and we can serve matcha lattes, and you can use your Evol to help serve the food, and we can set up an area to play kitty cards… hey! Are you even listening?”

Sylus blinks as you wave your hand in front of his face, a childish gesture, but endearing when done by you.

“You’re always so far away even though you’re right in front of me. Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be able to fully understand you.”

Sylus can only gaze into your eyes as you use your hand to hold his chin in place.

“I couldn’t burden you with my past like that,” Sylus says, holding your steady gaze. “There are things in this life that I’ve done that are…unforgivable. In a job like this…I can’t always be the good guy.”

“No matter what decisions we make in life, we’re always hurting someone, Sylus,” you say, giving him a stern look. “You can’t possibly believe that everyone has a clean slate when they go to heaven.”

“But what if one day I hurt you, Kitten?”

“You wouldn’t.”

“But there might come a time when I don’t have a choice.”

“Stop that. I hate when torture yourself like this. You talk in your sleep, y’know. I hear your pain.” You reach out and poke the familiar frown between his brows. “And everytime you wake up, I can feel you reaching out, checking if I’m still alive.”

“I can’t lose you,” Sylus murmurs. I lost you once; and it destroyed me.

“And you won’t.” You tap the ruby crow brooch fastened to the strap of your sundress. “See? You’re always with me, and I’m always with you. ”

Sylus blinks in wonder as you cross your heart. You make love feel so simple; so light. Even the impossible is within reach with you by his side. This kind of feeling; it makes him want to stupid things. Fly to the moon? Why not? Quit Onychinus and run away into the sunset with you? It’s not like he has much to lose anyway.

And he might tell you all this someday. When the dust settles and the Wanderers and the assassins aren’t lining up to kill the two of you; when all that’s left is a set of homemade rocking chairs on the wooden porch that has the footprints of your grandchildren embossed into the grain, maybe he’ll gently whisper all of the things he would do for you into the crown of your head.

But for now; he just whispers I love you into your ear, like a secret promise.

IX.

Eyes squinting with concentration, Sylus keeps his hands steady as he pipes neat little rosettes on the red velvet cake in front of him. After eight long weeks, his baking journey has come to a satisfying conclusion, or at least, that’s what he thinks, as he admires the masterpiece in front of him.

“You’ve come a long way,” Cecila whistles as she gives Sylus a friendly pat on the back. “Who would have known that the worst baker here would actually blossom into a Michelin star-worthy pâtissier in the end?”

“I suppose it all comes down to natural talent,” Sylus deadpans, but his face shows a hint of a smirk as Ceclia rolls her eyes at him.

“Always so humble, aren’t you? You nearly burnt down the kitchen three times.”

“Keeping a tally of my failures? How childish.”

Cecilia barely dodges the meringue that Sylus sends flying at her with the help of his Evol.

“You’d be nothing without all my knowledgeable advice,” Cecilia says, expecting another meringue to be thrown at her head, except it never comes. Instead, Sylus is looking at his cake with a nostalgic expression.

“In all honesty, I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you, so in case I forget to say it…” he trails off, giving her an honest bow. “Thank you.”

Cecilia’s jaw drops.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say thank you before.”

“Only people who earn my respect deserve my thanks,” he scoffs.

Cecilia folds her arms. “Are your standards always incredibly high?”

“When you’re blessed with the best of everything, why settle for less?” Sylus says with a shrug, carefully sprinkling some gold flakes onto the icing of his cake.

“So what now?” Cecilia asks, eyes curious as she looks between Sylus’s pensive face and the impressive red velvet cake. “Maybe you can bake your girlfriend something special.”

Sylus shakes his head. “No, that won’t do. Besides, I already have an idea in mind.”

He turns to face Cecilia, a wry smile tugging at his lips.

“A cake like this calls for a pseudo-marriage proposal.”

Like a revolving door, the change of seasons can become repetitive after a while. A constant game of give and take; each season eventually yields to the next. The same patterns, the same turns in the weather, Sylus has lived through enough lifetimes to sense the changes from even the most timid of nature’s whispers.

And as Summer bleeds into Autumn–t he season where everything dies –for the first time in this lifetime Sylus feels something other than dismal dismay. He feels something new. And it probably has something and everything to do with the fact that he gets to have moments like these with you.

“Come and get me!”

Sylus looks at you from behind tinted frames, splashing around in the river, the water up to your ankles as you chase the fish, laughing as every attempt ends in vain.

“Come on, Sylus! The water isn’t that cold!”

Sylus puts down his book and gives you a look. “How old are you again, Kitten?”

He laughs as you flip him the finger, but he’s already taking off his shoes and rolling up his trousers before he snaps his fingers and disappears.

Used to his tricks by now, you change into a defensive pose, keeping your eyes peeled for the sound of his Evol, the shimmer in the air that is usually followed by a puff of black and red smoke.

“Think fast, Sweetie.”

You yell as a giant wave appears out of nowhere and crashes down on you, sending you flailing, headfirst, into the water. Cursing Sylus’s name as you break the surface, you look around, ready to strangle him.

“Stop hiding you coward!” you yell, brandishing your fist of anger in the air, just as a rush of scarlet and black mist swirls around you and Sylus appears a few metres away from you, doubled over as he laughs at your drenched appearance.

“You are so dead!”

And all Sylus can do is laugh as you chase him while the sun sets, casting a heavenly glow on your skin until eventually you both end up on the grass, your clothes drying on the rocks as you lay against his bare chest.

𓇢𓆸𓏲𓇬𑁍

Much later, after the sun goes down and the world starts to fall into slumber, Sylus leads you down a candle lit pathway in the forest, his shirt loosely buttoned as you wear his jumper that’s so big, it drapes down to your knees.

“So where exactly are you taking me again?”

“If I told you, Kitten, it wouldn’t be a surprise.”

Sylus smiles as you cling tighter to him, caution in your steps as you try to figure out where the rough terrain under your feet might be taking you.

Sylus gives nothing away as he flicks away any debris with his Evol, holding your hand tight in his, anticipation pumping in his veins as he leads you deeper into the forest until–

“Oh my God.”

Roses. Hundreds and hundreds of roses. One for everyday that he spent searching for you. He doesn’t know how much he ordered in the end. All he knows is that he wanted to show you his pure devotion. That his soul is for you and for you only. Take me. Swallow me whole. I don’t care, as long as I can live inside your heart, I can breathe.

“Sylus…” you trail off as your eyes land on the round, candlelit, mahogany table among the roses. In the centre of it all, a perfect triple layered red velvet cake, like a jewel shining in a cave, Sylus’s has laid his heart out for you.

“A little kitten once said that she’d marry anyone who could make her red velvet cake everyday.”

Sylus wraps his arms around you and looks at you with all the earnesty of a man in love.

“I’m not saying you have to marry me right now, but…” he smiles as he lifts you off your feet, holding you tight as your legs naturally wrap around his waist.

“I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes you to decide. Even if you don’t want to get married at all; I don’t care. Wherever you go, I will follow. Until the world stops spinning and doomsday calls; I will be yours, my darling.”

Two pairs of eyes gaze into each other in a candlelit forest. The stars sigh and swoon as they watch two star-crossed lovers kiss beneath them. Forever entwined, their love knows no boundaries.

And even though destiny has told him that time is running out; your lips make Sylus feel like this life is infinite.

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thebomb-thebird-andtheburntbitch · 1 year ago

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a/n: 2.3k - boothill finds you digging around in junk and then offers you a gift he hopes you won't refuse... [plsdontflopplsdontflopplsdont-]

the heavy metal clinking of boothill's foot steps clank their way to your shop's door. an all too familiar door he'd always find himself going up to whenever he was in need of repair- big or small. the swiveling security camera you keep at your entrance blinks with red-lit life and moves to start following his movements as soon as he enters it's field of vision.

who knows if you're ever actually paying attention to the camera feed or not though. you can be careless like that. sometimes you're just out- couldn't be bothered or could care less about the remote feed linked directly to your phone. other times, you're so focused on some project you neglect it entirely.

based on the sign hanging on your shop's door he was familiar with- it seemed that this time in particular you were out.

boothill didn't need to know how to write- much less read well- to take a wild gander as to where you had wondered off to. putting his spring loaded and metal jointed hands on his slim waist, his chin dips with an amused chuckle and shake of his head. the cowboy lifts the toe of his mechanical boot and twists his body fully 'round; his spurs scrapping across the ground during his lazy about-face. with one foot in front of the other and thumbs hooked through the hollow crops of his trousers, the galaxy ranger makes his way towards the junk yard.

it would never occur to the standard person to spend their free time digging around a scrap yard filled with junk thrown out for a reason- but you were anything but standard. if you weren't tinkering around in your shop or finishing up a repair or commission, you were scrounging around the grounds for material or 'hidden treasure'... which was key for just slightly more valuable junk.

a typical haul for you would be a few pieces of scrap metal you could use for wielding, the rare unstripped screw or loose gaggle of bolts, and all sorts of wire. if it saved you a few credits by finding material instead of buying them, you weren't one to argue with free trash.

passing under the wire-metal gate leading into the fenced-off territory, his thumbs still tucked into his pant legs, his ears stay sharp. listening for any sound of you digging around in some heap while his head swivels back and forth to try and catch a glimpse of you.

"ey, sugar, you around!" boothill shouts, one of his hands detaching from his hips to cup around his mouth. he wanders further in, gets more ground, before calling out the same sentence a second time. shaking his head in bewilderment on how far in you had gone digging, he goes even further still and tries calling out a third time.

"here!" you finally answer back. your voice echoes around him, bouncing off the scrap metal and spooking the rats and other critters that call the junk yard home. his head turns in the direction of your voice, the way his body leans towards it before his feet start carrying him that way never took notice in his own mind.

eventually, he makes it to you. squat down to the ground, under the rusty remains of some poor saps long eroded escape pod from whatever solar system they crashed in from. he crosses his arms, then his ankles, leaning his metal shoulder on the ruined dome you were digging under.

the ranger had no idea how long you had been out here, but judging by the half full bag you kept on your shoulder and the grease sticking to your neck and exposed skin he could guess it's been a bit. he chuckles when you dig out a rusted, broken pipe of... something, before tossing it over your shoulder with a disappointed click of your tongue and looking up at him. your cheeks had some gunk on it too, probably from you wiping the back of your gloves on it.

"fancy diggin' around in junk?"

"it's not all junk."

"the fudge it aint," he scoffs. to him, it absolutely was all junk. "this aint called the dang junk yard for nothin, sugar."

"it's a scrap yard."

"stubborn-bottom." you move to stand up, clapping your gloved hands together before taking them off so you could use your hands more freely. "good to see ya took my advice and startin' wearing some forkin' gloves around here." he eyes around at all the rust and sharp metal. "gonna get tetanus or somethin', and we can't have that."

"im liable to get tetanus from you before anything else," you joke so straight-faced it didn't feel like a joke. his crossed arms drop along with his jaw and his stance straightens as he uncrosses his ankles.

"ey', i aint as forkin' filthy as you pretend i am, and you know it." you shrug with a half smirk that was so dismissive he was tempted to keep arguing. you push the goggles you were wearing over your eyes to avoid getting anything in them and possible irritation onto your forehead. seeing the contrast between your sweaty, grease and dirt marked skin and the clean skin that was protected under the goggles had him scoff. "yer filthier than i am, by the look of things."

you roll your eyes and move to climb out of the rusty treasure trove of junk you had deemed no longer having anything of value. reaching out, boothill offers you his hand. you take it easily as he starts pulling you up and out to stand in front of him. your hand drops from his when you stand safely in his bubble, and he isn't sure if you know how close you are or not.

your nose is always so focused in tinkering around or messing with work that you can't always... read the room so to speak. its endearing, until it gets frustrating anyway.

"so, what're you here for this time? need something fixed again- i swear if you already burned through that new servo i replaced a month ago, im going to take off your arm and you won't get it back for a week."

"well, that's awful sweet of you." you knew by his dry tone and sneered lips that exposed his sharp teeth that the word sweet was definitely supposed to be a different five-letter word starting with 's'. one that his broken beacon (which you refuse to fix out of entertainment) wouldn't allow him to say.

"seems like an appropriate consequence to me, considering i don't charge you for repairs."

"i ain't here for not goose-dud repair," he hisses. "i had planned on givin' ya somethin', but based on your sweet attitude i aint so sure about it now."

"you brought me something?" he nods. "from a different solar planet?" he could see the curiosity start to ignite in your eyes. he nods again. you stuff your gloves into a pouch in your pants that he swears you've sewed another pocket into, before you're marching away from him and towards the entrance he had marched from at the beginning of this search. "well come on, let's get a moving!" you shout over your shoulder.

his synthetic voice chuckles at your back. eagerly waltzing after you.

boothill soon finds himself sitting with his knees apart and comfortably lounging with his arms on the back of your worn-down, two-cushioned couch the moment you two got back to the shop. he had taken himself to your quote- reception room, as he waited for you to unload your finds from the junkyard (meaning you just took your bag, flipped it upside and let its content spill out unceremoniously onto your worktable before you would eventually sort through it at a later time).

the tapping of his metal toes against your floor echoed dully against the rug under the sofa as you soon made your way to stand in front of him, hands on your hips and an expectant look in your eyes. flicking the brim of his hat cheekily to get a better look up at you, he lifted his chin.

"my attention is yours," you dramatically sigh, hands flaring to your sides before bouncing back against your legs.

"im flattered, sugar," he jests back. still, he shifts. the small pouch he had strung to his belt that was home to his array of extra fire rounds was soon detached from him. the string of which was used to tie it to him previously, hangs lazily from his metal fingertips. with a raised, semi-skeptical brow, you carefully take it off his hands.

"if this is some sort of prank," you warn. his hands raise in the air with his elbows still resting comfortably on the back of the cushions he was leaning against, gesturing that he meant no harm.

slowly- cautiously- you pull open the bag and remove two different items that had been nestled safely inside.

tossing the now empty bag onto the couch next to boothill's leg, you took each item into one hand and looked between them. one was a small crystal that was no larger than the center of your palm. shining a swirling color of green and blue, you could only imagine that it would look even prettier properly polished and with a light shining behind it. in the other was a small box, one that could be opened with a rusty lid. giving it a small rattle revealed something to be inside. doing so revealed a small robot that had been covered in rust, missing a robotic arm and wires spilling out from under the cracked and broken screen that would most definitely have acted as it's face.

"what's all this?" you ask softly. boothill stands from his lackadaisical lounging on your sofa to come and waltz up to your side. he pointed at the robot sitting sadly in the container he had brought him in first.

"i found this lil fella and thought you'd have a gas fixin' him right up. as for that," he points to the crystal of dual-swirling shades next, "accordin' to my scanners, that there's a pretty dadgum power source." boothill takes the small crystal from your palm and hovers it just above the robot. "it suits him, don't it?" he chuckles.

in truth, the slightly dingy looking crystal shard was too magnificent compared to the busted and rusted robot. but, with a bit of work, repair and love, perhaps the color of the crystal really would look nice against polished sheet metal.

"i figure givin' you somethin' else to tinker with would be more... enriching than just your usual forkin' machines." and it could keep you company, but he didn't say that out loud.

when you would get it working like he knew you could, maybe you'd stop and think about him while he was away chasing his reality out as a galaxy ranger. if you could just spare a single thought towards him every day because of a small robot and shiny rock? he'd be tickled pink.

"he's cute," you whisper gently and boothill wonders if you know you said it out loud at all. he chuckles, bringing his hand up to cup the designed dents atop his cowboy hat. taking it off his head, he gently drops it onto yours, gaining your attention back from the gifts he had given you.

the way you lift your eyes to look at him- filled with something akin to excitement and fondness- and gently cradle the small rusty robot with his hat now shadowing your face, he could almost hear the wires in his chest running on turbo. he'd had to cool down asap before he overheated or crashed.

taking a step back- for his own sake- he leaves his hat on your head before patting your back.

"get to it," he softly tells you. you mutely nod, an excited smile breaking out over your lips as you trot towards a different room. it was a small private work space you retreated to for personal projects. boothill was one that was usually allowed inside since this room was where he would get his tune ups most times.

with boothill following your back, he watches you trot to your work bench. you gently set the robot's box down and remove it from inside. the crystal you submerged in a bowl that you soon fill with polish to let it soak. it took all of ten minutes before you're surrounded by tools and wires and equipment made for digital repairs. all the while boothill remade his comfort in a worn-down rocker you kept in the corner, content on staying put until he was forced to leave. whether it by your or by his next bounty.

he couldn't very well leave you with his hat either, even if it looked better on you than him.

the next time boothill comes into your shop after that gift drop off, it wasn't a visit but a proper repair. running out of cooling agent for his internal hardware was just waiting for a disaster to happen. his synthetic-coded laugh burst into the room jollily as when he sat down on the stool he always planted his ass in for repairs, a small, shiny robot- with the cutest digital expressions and a small blue-green swirling crystal placed in the center of its chest- was waddling across your work bench. a vile of blue cooling agent the near size of his small metal body grasped tightly in its robotic arms.

it chirped happily with a digital reverb when you thank it for bringing the coolant over.

boothill was indeed tickled as pink could get seeing you already attached to the lil fella. he wondered what you named it.

a/n: smol robot go beep-boop (i love the idea of mechanic!reader just having a cute lil guy to follow them around like a puppy :(( [big thanks to @/birinboom and my partner for letting me pick their brain on what gifts boothill ended up giving to the reader bc i had no idea lol smooches <3]

#boothill #hsr boothill #boothill x reader #boothill fluff #boothill x you #boothill x y/n #boothill honkai star rail #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x y/n #honkai star rail boothill #hsr #boothill headcanons #boothill scenarios #boothill fanfic #honkai star rail fluff

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codeonedigest · 2 years ago

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#spring boot #springframework #springbeans #springbootprojectsetup #springbootmicroservices #springbootjobscheduler #springboot #spring boot mongodb #spring beans #spring boot tutorial #spring boot microservices #spring boot project setup

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trappolia · 1 year ago

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── KISS ME ONCE AND KISS ME TWICE AND KISS ME ONCE AGAIN

silver vanrouge. silver dreams of you, always you. it only makes it far more painful to break from the chains of malleus' curse to seek the you that exists beyond his dreamscape.

Silver has always taken his time with you.

He has never been able to tell you why. Lilia says that it is just the way he is, ever since he was a boy; he plays by the rules, he goes by a routine that is, as much as possible, not too affected by his strange sleeping habits.

it is why he goes through the meticulous steps of courting you, offering you flowers and gifting you with thoughtful trinkets and even writing letters for your family while your worlds remain separate. It is why it had to be you to take the first step and kiss him one night during a star-gazing date because gods damn it all, you’re sick of waiting.

( Silver had laughed and laughed that night as you apologised for your callous actions; because you were so cute, because he was so in love, because it had all felt like a dream come true when he allowed himself to ignore tradition to cup your cheeks and pull you into another kiss. )

Silver discovers very early on that even when he takes his time, it's all still overwhelming. Like a dream come true, he used to tell Lilia in bouts of deliriousness when he was still caught between dream and reality and his mind was too muddled with sleep to care about embarrassing himself in front of the fae who had raised him.

Like a dream come true.

But what is his dream, exactly?

A cottage deep in the forest of briar valley, with ivy growing up the walls and over the red-tiled roof. Soft, packed dirt with growing flowers of all kinds, spring blossoms of pink, yellow, blue, red, protected by a low wall. There are no horrors with dripping ink and dragging claws, no glowing emerald eyes or scaled wings. Just grass and flowers and sky and nothing.

No. Not nothing. Because there's you.

"I just cleaned, so remember to take off your boots by the door!" Silver hears you call out from inside the cottage. His chest quakes as he lets out a ragged breath, his bag dropping as he rids himself of the extra weight.

The floor below his dirty boots is clean slate compared to the cluttered kitchen to his left and the living area to his right. Silver sees the same threadbare couch by the stone fireplace, cluttered with throw pillows and blankets and an unfinished knitting project. The couch is old. Used. Loved. There are some closed doors beyond the stairs, but Silver doesn't have to check to know what lies behind them. His old childhood bedroom where Lilia used to tuck him in. A bathroom that has been flooded one or more than a few times when he got too carried away with playtime. The small study where he used to have his lessons on reading and writing.

There's something about the sight of his childhood home that sets Silver off, as if he’s caught in crosswinds, but he fumbles his way inside anyway, toeing his shoes off out of ingrained politeness. His footfalls feel heavy and light all at once against the wooden floors as he walks — almost as if by habit — to the kitchen where he had heard your voice come from.

"There you are," you beam at him, putting a kettle of water on top of the same stove that Silver had watched his father cook his meals so many times. Your brows furrow when you notice the strange expression on his face; the emotions whirling in his aurora irises like a hurricane and the trembling of his bottom lip.

You frown, wiping your hands on a cloth rag. "Silver? what's wrong?"

Silver lets out a ragged breath, his hand shaking as it comes up to cradle your own as you cup his face in your palm. What is wrong? This is all he's ever wanted, isn't it? A life with you in the woods he had grown up in, free of worries and dangers and hurt and anger. He's built a home with no fear, no yelling, no uncertainties. Just like the life lilia always wanted to give him.

It's a dream come true.

"You're a dream," Silver whispers when he realises, his hands coming up to cradle your face in turn. He's shaking, he knows that even with his mind whirling, but he just can't help it— he has to touch you, make sure this isn't— this isn't a nightmare—

No. No, no, no. Malleus wouldn't do that. This is his dream. This is what his heart has always yearned for.

"My dream."

"Well, aren't you sappy today?" you muse, lips quirking up in that soft smile that Silver oh so adores to kiss. "What's the occasion?"

"I—" Silver opens his mouth, but no words come out. What can he say? What can he do, knowing that this is all he's ever wanted, but this is a dream. This is a dream and you're not real but gods, does silver want you to be.

A beat passes, and your smile turns sad.

"You know, don't you?"

Silver feels his heart ache. He wants to tell you no. No, please keep this veil over my eyes. Pretend i don’t know this isn’t real. Please. Please.

You reach out, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear with such tenderness that he feels like crying. “You’ve always been so smart, Silver.”

“I’m sorry,” he allows himself to say, because this is the least he owes you— this perfect imitation of you that his mind, Malleus’s magic, has managed to conjure, because in the short time you’ve known him, you’ve managed to ingrain yourself into every fibre of his being so that even under this spell, all Silver can dream about is you, you, you.

Silver doesn't want to wake up. He doesn't, he really doesn't. There's something in him that pulls at his heartstrings, tugging at every vein and nerve as if begging him to stay, please stay. There must be a reason why you're always falling asleep, why this had to happen. Just stay. This is a dream come true, why would you want to wake up?

“You’re still there,” Silver says in a voice so small, it feels like he’s a little boy again, crying and clinging onto Lilia like the fever that sticks to his skin and reminds him of his mortality.

“You’re still there, and I’m here.”

His childhood home is small, but within the cottage and with your hands cradling his face, the thick walls feels unnaturally closer, like something is breathing on the back of his neck. He’s reminded of you, somewhere in Night Raven College, trapped within your own dream. Do you dream of him, he wonders? Has he become your new dream, just as you have become his?

Will he ever see you again?

Silver can't bear the thought of you somehow waking up from your dream — a matter of when rather than if, because Silver knows that you've always had a knack for getting out of impossible situations like this — and realising that he had left you alone to stay in this eternal sleep, with this dream– this illusion of what could have been.

“I have to go,” Silver whispers, and his heart breaks because this might be a dream, but it’s still you. How can he tell you he’s going to leave? He can’t do that. He can’t break your heart like that, he can’t—

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry— I'm so, so sorry.”

He expects you to stop him. What do the stories say about dreams where you’re supposed to be kept unaware, blissfully oblivious to the fact that this utopia is not your reality? Silver expects this dream version of you to pull some sort of trick to lure him back into your trap—

But instead you just smile softly, reaching out to stroke his face, "How lucky I am to have someone like you love me."

Silver hears something crack, resonating in his soul. Is it the chains of Malleus’s magic breaking its hold on him, or the last pieces of his heart shattering at last? He doesn’t know.

Maybe it’s both.

But whatever it is, Silver knows he doesn’t have much time. His hands cup your cheeks, pulling you close to him with the desperation of a dying man.

He feels you gasp against his mouth, lips parting and allowing his tongue to slip inside. He maps the cavern of your mouth as if immortalising it in his mind, like he’ll never see you again after this— because that is very well a possibility, no matter how he tries to ignore it.

Silver kisses you like it’s his last day in this godforsaken world, because it might as well be, and great seven, he should have done this every time he kissed you. He should have kissed you first. He should have kissed you every moment he could instead of taking his time because now he can hear the sand running in the hourglass, and he’s blind to how much time he has left, and he just wants to see you in the flesh again, please, please, please—

The two of you part an eternity later, but it still feels much too soon. There’s so much love in him, and too little time, and Silver feels like drowning.

"Wait for me," Silver pleads. He'll make this dream come true, he swears. He’ll give you all the love he has in this wretched body of his, and then some. He’ll never sleep again even, if only to make this dream come true.

"I will," you whisper breathlessly—

—and with a bittersweet smile and a final, fleeting kiss to his lips, you let him go.

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s1ut-4-rafe · 3 months ago

Text

ALWAYS BEEN YOU | Drew Starkey

MASTERLIST (One Shot)

Pairing - Drew Starkey x HighSchool Sweetheart! Reader

Summary - Years ago, the reader and Drew Starkey were high school sweethearts, convinced forever was yours. But when he left to chase his dreams as an actor, life pulled you apart. Now, he's back in town to visit family, and the last thing either of you expected was to cross paths again.

Word Count - 3628

Content - Fluff, high school sweethearts, second chance, reunion, soft angst, sfw

It’s was a crisp spring morning in Hickory, North Carolina, the kind of day when the air smells like fresh beginnings and the sun’s warmth dances through the trees. A perfect morning for a walk, and you couldn’t help but smile as you stepped into your favorite local café.

The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon lingered in the air as you waited for your order, your fingers drumming idly against the countertop. It was a simple routine—one you’d done countless times before.

With your drink in hand, you pushed the door open, stepping back into the crisp morning air. The first sip was perfect, rich and smooth, the warmth seeping through you as you started down the familiar path.

You’d been walking this same path for years now, and it never lost its magic. It felt as though nature itself was waking up from a long, sleepy winter, just like you used to feel every time you walked through these park gates, years ago.

Spring was always your favorite time of year, when everything felt new again. The birds were chirping, the trees were budding, and the flowers that had laid dormant for so long were now in full bloom. It was the kind of place that made you feel grounded, at peace with everything around you.

As your boots crunched against the gravel path, you couldn’t help but let your mind wander back to the days when this park was so much more than just a peaceful place to walk. It was your place, where you and Drew used to come together after school, your laughter echoing through the trees and the distant sounds of the creek flowing gently beside you.

You remembered it so clearly: how he’d always walk with you, never wanting to leave your side. How the air between you always felt charged, even back then. Before he had his car, you’d take the bus together every day, sitting side by side, talking about everything and nothing at the same time. The world felt so big and full of possibility back then, but also so small, because you and Drew had each other. It was simple. It was perfect.

The two of you were inseparable in high school, always finding a way to be together. Whether it was lunch in the courtyard or late-night phone calls until you both fell asleep, you never imagined life without him. He lived just a few streets over, and that made it all the easier. You’d talk about your dreams, his dreams, where you’d both go when graduation came. And you were so sure then, so certain that nothing could ever tear you apart.

But of course, life had a different plan.

After graduation, Drew left for Los Angeles to chase his dream of becoming an actor, which was something you both had always talked about. He promised to visit when he could, but it was clear that life was pulling you in different directions.

While Drew was headed west, you found yourself on the other side of the world, stepping onto a new college campus that felt both thrilling and overwhelming. You had gotten into your dream school, a prestigious marine biology program, and for the first time, you truly felt like you were where you were meant to be. The ocean had always been your love, and now you were diving into it—literally.

You studied everything from coral reefs to ocean pollution, learning about how the oceans were changing and how humans were affecting the sea life you had always been so passionate about protecting. It wasn’t just about books and classrooms; you worked on real-world projects, traveling to remote areas to help protect endangered sea creatures, and even working with conservation groups to create plans to help restore the oceans.

Every day felt like an adventure, whether you were diving in the middle of the ocean or figuring out new ways to fight for the world’s waters. It was hard being so far away from home and from Drew, but this was your dream. And it was unfolding in ways you had never imagined.

That summer before you left, you and Drew sat on this very path, beneath the same oak trees, and talked for hours about your relationship. You had no idea when you went to meet him there that it would be the last time you'd sit together, side by side, in that park. The last time you'd have easy, carefree conversations. The goodbye you shared was mutual, but that didn't make it any less painful. Both of you understood what was at stake—chasing your dreams and finding who you were meant to be.

The text messages and occasional calls faded over time, until they eventually stopped altogether. You never expected to lose him, but somewhere along the way, it happened anyway.

And now, here you are, standing in the same park, and life had changed so much since those days, yet the park remained the same, unchanging.

You took another sip of your coffee, smiling softly to yourself, as a breeze danced through the trees. Sometimes, you couldn’t help but wonder if things would’ve been different if Drew had stayed. But then again, that’s the funny thing about life is it never really lets you know what would have happened.

With a sigh, you decided it was time to get a few things from the grocery store before heading back home. You tucked your hands into the pockets of your jacket and turned toward the street, making your way toward the small, family-owned store near the edge of town.

The bell above the grocery store door jingled softly as you stepped inside, a scent of fresh produce and baked goods greeting you. It was the small-town market you’d grown up with, the kind where everyone knew everyone’s name—or at least their face.

You grabbed a basket, moving through the aisles distractedly, your thoughts still swirling around your walk in the park. You weren’t sure how long you’d been walking around aimlessly when you turned the corner to grab a carton of eggs and saw the last person you’d expect to see standing there.

Drew.

For a moment, time seemed to freeze. He was really there, standing just a few feet away, casually browsing through the shelves, his dark hair slightly longer than it had been the last time you saw him. His features were still strikingly familiar, strong jaw, those same blue eyes you’d gotten lost in too many times to count, but now there was a certain air about him, like life had marked him in ways you couldn't quite understand.

He hadn’t seen you yet, and you wondered for a second if you should just turn around and make a quick exit. But the pull was too strong. You couldn’t avoid it forever.

You took a step forward, and that's when he turned, his eyes locking onto yours with the same recognition, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. The world felt a little too small, a little too still, as the moment hung between you.

"Hey," he said, his voice low but warm, as if he were still unsure of how to approach this unexpected encounter.

"Hey," you replied, your voice a little softer than usual, like the weight of so many unspoken things was pressing on your chest.

For a few seconds, neither of you spoke. The noise of the store faded into the background as you both tried to adjust to the reality of seeing each other again after so many years. It was like you were both teenagers again, but now you were adults, with different lives and different paths. Awkwardness lingered in the air, but the chemistry that you two shared hadn’t disappeared. It was still there and as strong as ever.

Drew shifted, scratching the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. "I, uh, didn't expect to run into you here."

You laughed softly, shaking your head. "I didn't either, to be honest."

There was another beat of silence, but it wasn’t uncomfortable now. It was just... natural. After all this time, it felt like you were both trying to piece together the puzzle of who you were now, who you had been, and how it all fit.

Finally, Drew spoke again, a little more at ease now. "Well, I’m in town visiting my family for a bit," he explained, his cart full of groceries. "I’m actually just picking up some things for them... but, uh, I was wondering—"

He paused for a second, his gaze drifting away from yours for a split second before locking back onto you, searching your face as if asking for permission.

"Would you like to catch up tonight? Maybe grab a drink or just walk around? I mean... I’m sure we both have a lot to talk about."

Your heart skipped. There was a hopeful glint in his eyes, and even though you both knew how much time had passed, how much had changed, it felt like the past was right there between you. The idea of catching up, of talking about everything and nothing, was tempting.

You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, I’d like that. Where should we meet?"

Drew’s smile widened, and for the briefest moment, everything felt like it used to—easy, comfortable, like no time had passed at all.

"How about our spot?" he suggested. "Our bench at the park. 5 o'clock sound good?"

"Perfect," you said. The words felt light, easy, like a promise.

He gave you one last look, and you could see something in his eyes—something that had always been there, even if it had faded a little over time. You both had been part of each other's lives once, and maybe, just maybe, tonight could help you figure out where you stood now.

"See you then," Drew said with a soft smile before turning to grab a few more things from the shelves, his footsteps fading as you made your way to the checkout.

As you paid for your items, a mix of excitement and nerves swirled in your stomach. This was unexpected, yes, but it also felt like something you didn’t want to miss. Drew was back in town. And maybe, just maybe, this was the chance to figure out what had never quite been finished between the two of you.

After the unexpected encounter at the store, you needed to ground yourself. The afternoon stretched out before you, and nothing was pressing on your schedule. You figured the best thing to do was to take a moment to breathe and ease your mind before meeting Drew later.

Back in your apartment, you slipped off your shoes and went to the kitchen to put the kettle on for some tea. You couldn’t help but smile a little, the warm cup of tea filling your hands as you watched the sunlight peek through the curtains.

It had been such a long time since you’d felt this level of quiet peace, like things were settled for just a moment. It was so easy to get caught up in the day-to-day, in the responsibilities that came with work and adulting, but today felt different. Maybe it was the reminder of simpler times or the unexpectedness of seeing Drew, but everything felt a little... lighter.

You spent the next few hours doing small things around the apartment, organizing old books, folding laundry, and listening to music softly in the background. You didn’t want to dive too deep into thoughts of the past yet. There was enough space in your mind for the present, for this new chapter you had built for yourself, and for today’s unexpected reunion. But it didn’t stop your mind from drifting now and then.

As the day wore on, you started to feel a quiet sense of anticipation, a tinge of excitement that you couldn’t quite place. After a light dinner, you started to get ready to leave. It was still a little before five when you grabbed your jacket and checked the time. There was no rush; just enough time to get to the park and breathe in the fresh air. You didn’t want to overthink this; just enjoy the moment of finally seeing him again.

The walk to the park was peaceful. The streets were quieter than usual, the soft murmur of the town around you giving way to the sound of your footsteps. The park came into view as you rounded the corner, there was a comforting familiarity to it all—the park, the bench, even the light rustle of the trees overhead.

When you finally reached the bench, you spotted Drew sitting there. He looked the same in many ways, but older too. It was the kind of look that made you realize just how much time had passed, how much had changed. Yet, there was something about him still that was so familiar. You hesitated for a moment, taking in the sight of him sitting there, just as he used to.

He looked up as you approached, his eyes lighting up with surprise and recognition. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "Hey," he said, standing up as you reached the bench. "I’m glad you came."

You returned the smile, settling onto the bench beside him. "I am, too."

The moment hung between you two, just a little heavy with unspoken words. You shifted slightly, the same old chemistry between you both still there, but also... different. There was an awkwardness, a distance that couldn’t be ignored. You weren’t sure what to say, and neither was he. For a few moments, the quiet of the park surrounded you—soft winds rustling the leaves, birds calling in the distance.

"So," Drew finally broke the silence, his voice lighter now. "Remember that day we went to the beach and I ended up with that ridiculous sunburn?"

You laughed at the memory, the sound of it filling the air between you two. "How could I forget? You were miserable for days. And you wouldn’t let me hear the end of it."

He grinned, clearly amused by the memory. "I deserved it. I was stupid enough to ignore your warnings about sunscreen." His smile faded slightly, like he was lost in thought for a moment. "But, you know, even that day felt... perfect. Everything about it felt right. The whole time, I knew I never wanted it to end."

You nodded, your heart stirring with the memory of those simpler days. The carefree summers, the laughter, the little moments when you and Drew felt like you were the only two people in the world. It almost felt like no time had passed at all, but the truth was undeniable: so much had changed, so much had shifted in the time between then and now.

Drew cleared his throat softly, looking over at you. "Do you ever wonder how things might’ve been if we hadn’t... gone in different directions?"

The question hung there, unspoken for so long, yet now was finally asked aloud. You looked away for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Sometimes," you admitted quietly. "I mean, it’s hard not to. I don’t know if things would’ve worked out, but I guess we’ll never know."

A moment of silence passed between you two before you looked at him again, your gaze a little more searching. You couldn’t stop the question that had been nagging at you since he left—since everything fell apart so suddenly. "Why did you really leave, Drew? You promised you’d visit. The calls, the texts... everything just stopped. Why didn’t you come back like you said you would?"

Drew’s expression shifted, and for a brief moment, his face became a little guarded. But then, his eyes softened, his gaze locking with yours as he took a deep breath. "I didn’t know how to handle it," he said quietly, his voice thick with regret.

"I thought that it was the right thing to do, for both of us. I thought you deserved more than what I could give you at the time, I was never around. I didn’t want to drag you into my world, into all that uncertainty. But that was the wrong choice. I should’ve kept in touch. I should’ve made the effort. I wasn’t... I wasn’t strong enough to stay."

He ran a hand through his hair, looking down for a moment, like he was trying to find the right words. "The truth is, I never got over you. I tried to move on with other people, but it was never the same. No matter who I was with, it didn’t feel right. You were always there. You were always in my head."

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. It was everything you’d wanted to hear, but now that it was said, everything felt even more complicated than before. You wanted to say something, but the words felt stuck in your throat.

Without thinking, you leaned in, pressing your lips to his in a soft, hesitant kiss. It was slow, lingering, like neither of you wanted to rush through it, not now, not after everything that had been said.

When you pulled back, your eyes locked onto Drew’s. The air between you felt heavier now, as though the kiss had opened up something neither of you were sure how to deal with. You could feel the tension, the unspoken words, and the feelings you both had buried deep over the years. There was so much left unsaid, so much left unresolved. But one thing was for sure now, whatever had been between you two, it was still there.

He looked at you, his expression soft but uncertain. "So... what now?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, as if he wasn’t sure how to navigate this space between you both.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart. "I don’t know," you said honestly, a slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "I guess... we take this one step at a time?"

Drew gave a small, nervous laugh, the sound of it almost as familiar as the way he used to laugh when he was caught off guard. He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly unsure but clearly wanting to be near you. "I know I’ve made a mess of things. But... I don’t want to mess this up again." His gaze softened, his voice earnest now. "I’ve missed you, Y/N, more than I ever thought I would."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You could feel it too—the ache of missed opportunities, the gap that had formed between you over the years.

You looked out at the park for a moment, the peaceful surroundings a sharp contrast to the emotions swirling between you two. "I never stopped thinking about you either, Drew," you admitted softly. "I just... I had to keep going. I couldn’t keep waiting for you to come back. But really, I don’t know what happens next."

He nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. "Look, I’m not asking for everything to be the same as it was before. I just want to be in your life again. Even if it’s a little messy at first. I want the chance to make things right... If you’ll let me."

You took another deep breath, the weight of his words settling in your chest. You didn’t have all the answers, and you couldn’t predict where this would go, but one thing was for certain: this moment felt like the beginning of something new. Something raw. Something real.

You reached out, your hand brushing his. It wasn’t a grand gesture, but it felt like enough. It felt like a promise.

"I want to see where this goes," you said, your voice steady but gentle.

Drew smiled, his whole face lighting up with a quiet relief. "That sounds perfect."

There was a moment of silence between you two, the kind that was full of unspoken understanding. And then, Drew spoke again, his voice firm but filled with determination.

"I’m not leaving anytime soon," he said, his gaze locking with yours. "I came back to visit, but... I think I need more time here. I want to figure things out with you. To make up for all the years we lost." His eyes softened with vulnerability.

The weight of his words settled in your chest, and you couldn’t help but smile, a mixture of relief and hope swirling inside you. This wasn’t just about him staying in town for a few extra days—he was making a choice, a commitment, to be present and to see where this could go.

"Are you sure? I mean…can you do that?" you asked, your voice a little breathless, both surprised and touched by his determination.

Drew nodded, his smile widening. "I’m sure, and yes, I can. I’m not ready to walk away from you again, not without giving this everything I’ve got."

The way he looked at you made your heart flutter, a mixture of hope and warmth blooming in your chest. You weren’t sure what the future would hold, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you could face it.

"Okay," you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips. "Let’s see where this goes, then."

Drew grinned, his hand tightening around yours just a little, as if anchoring both of you to this moment. The park, the breeze, the way the evening light bathed everything in a soft glow—it all felt right. Like a new beginning, though neither of you could know what that would look like yet.

But you were willing to find out. Together.

#obx #rafe cameron #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe imagine #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron one shot #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe obx #obx fanfic #obx oneshots #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks fanfiction

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zraiusxo · 2 months ago

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omg omgggg i always see your notes in a lot of Hange fics, and Im sososoo glad you're writing!! 💟

May I request a college au where reader is a reserved, quiet, and really kind freshman art student (kinda like fluttershy) and Hange is a charming chemical engineering student. Reader's friends warn her that Hange is in the cof of playboys and stuff who don't take things seriously. And Hange knows this but they fell in love with the reader and came to truly love her so they want to prove themself but they have this fear of commitment due to past unsuccessful relationships. Maybe a bit of angst plss 🙏🙏 tytyyyyy no pressure to write this, I'm just happy to see your fics here!! 💟

♡ no warnings. not proofread. fluff.

Hange Zoë Oneshot♡ Sketching Chemistry

The buzz of Paradis University’s courtyard was an ever-present hum — sneakers on concrete, chatter between classes, the clink of coffee cups at the nearby benches. Spring was barely clinging to the air, and early afternoon sunlight slanted across the fine arts building, where you often sat cross-legged in the grass with a sketchbook balanced delicately on your knees.

You were a vision of quiet, almost intimidating beauty: dark sweaters, pressed skirts, the sharp edges of your style softened only by the worn-in leather of your sketchbook. Most people in your university knew you in passing as a pretty freshman art student, always with a pencil tucked behind your ear, always lost in some far-off thought.

You weren’t naïve — just resolute. You knew your world, knew what you wanted, and didn’t offer your company lightly.

It was at one of Sasha’s notorious "pizza on the lawn" Fridays that you first really noticed Hange Zoë.

They were laughing hardly with Miche, who was half-laying on the grass in a dark green shirt with his drink spilled all over his jeans, cursing under his breath. Hange wore a white tank top that showed off their tan and toned arms dusted in a few tattoos, cargo pants tucked carelessly into scuffed boots. Their glasses caught the sun every time they tilted their head to speak, and it felt like Hange’s whole presence glowed with reckless, unfiltered charm.

It wasn’t the way they looked that caught you. It was the way they listened.

Eyes lit up with genuine attention, mouth half-quirked in some secret amusement even when they weren’t speaking. They made every person around them feel important, like the center of the universe for a moment.

You lowered your sharp eyes back to your sketchbook.

Dangerous, you thought.

And as if summoned by your glance, Sasha plopped down next to you with a fresh plate of pizza.

“Careful around Hange,” she said, voice muffled by a mouthful of cheese. “They’re part of Miche’s group. Y'know— full of heartbreakers. Ya know the drill.”

You raised an eyebrow, barely reacting, fingers holding the pencil that were still tracing gentle lines across the paper.

Connie, sprawling out on Sasha’s other side, chimed in with a snort, “Miche, Erwin, Levi — they’re all tight. Real smooth, real shiny, until you realize they’re allergic to, like, anything serious.”

You listened without looking up.

“Hange’s probably the most charming of all of them, though,” Sasha added thoughtfully. “Smart as hell. Chemical engineering, I think. Popular too. But commitment?” She let out a dramatic pfffft. “Forget it.”

A hum vibrated against your rosy lips noncommittally. You didn’t need a warning. You’d learned long ago that you didn’t offer your heart to anyone who hadn’t already bled for it.

It started slow.

A week later, you found Hange on the second floor of the library, tucked into the engineering section with a battered laptop open and papers strewn across two desks. They looked frustrated, brow furrowed, one hand raking through messy brown hair.

When they caught you glancing over (your studio class was doing a project involving chemical pigments, and you were half-lost yourself), Hange grinned.

“Hey! Art genius. Help a desperate nerd out?”

You blinked, long eyelashes fluttering, wary.

“I’m not a genius,” you said flatly, adjusting the strap of your leather bag. “And I’m not sure why you’d need help with art.”

Hange shrugged, unapologetic. “Genius recognizes genius, you know? Plus, you seem way more organized than me.”

You almost smiled— almost— before turning to the shelf, swiftly plucking out the textbook you needed.

Hange watched you like you were a riddle they wanted to spend the next ten years solving.

Hange started appearing everywhere after that.

At your favorite study spot near the quad, lounging nearby with a mechanical pencil tucked behind their ear.

At the campus café, scribbling equations into a grimy notebook while you nursed your favorite iced coffee.

At Mikasa’s casual hangouts, where they’d somehow maneuver to sit near you — not so close that it would be obvious, but enough that you’d feel the hum of their presence like a low electrical current.

They were patient with you, to a degree you didn’t expect.

No flirtatious touch. No crude jokes like Miche might've made. Just conversation, bright and winding, questions about your art, your inspirations, your favorite late-night snacks when deadlines loomed.

You wanted to resist.

You knew what your friends had said. You knew better.

But Hange made it hard to maintain your careful distance.

There was an earnestness to them— a way they leaned in when you spoke, like your words were the most important thing they'd hear that day.

And yet, you noticed the cracks.

You saw the way Hange would sometimes falter mid-laugh, a flash of something tight and scared in their eyes.

You heard the way Levi would caution them gently, "Don't screw this up," he'd mutter under his breath, more warning than joke— not that he was the type to joke around anyway, when Hange lingered too long around you.

You realized, slowly, that Hange wasn’t like the others because they didn’t want to be.

They had been before— careless, breezy, easily moving on from one shiny thing to the next. They had loved and been left. Left and been hated. Somewhere along the line, love had become synonymous with failure to them.

Commitment terrified Hange.

Not because they didn’t feel enough.

But because they felt too much.

One late night, under the soft pool of light from the streetlamps near the empty art building, Hange finally said it.

"I’m scared, you know." Their voice was low, almost hoarse, as they stuffed their hands into the pockets of their jacket. "Not of you. Just... of ruining things. Of wanting something too badly and then watching it die."

You closed your sketchbook slowly.

The night was cool against your skin. You could hear your own breathing.

“I don’t need a promise from you,” you said softly, the words steady despite the ache in your chest. "I just need honesty."

Hange looked at you like you were the first kindness they hadn’t had to earn.

A beat of silence stretched between you, golden and fragile.

"I’m trying," they said finally. "Really trying. I... don’t want to lose you before I even have you."

You reached out— slow, deliberate— and took their larger and much rougher hand in yours, your soft skin brushing against their callouses.

It wasn’t a declaration. It wasn’t forgiveness for things they hadn’t done yet.

It was an invitation.

And Hange, for once in their reckless life, stepped forward instead of running away.

You studied late into the nights at the café. Hange dragged you into impromptu ramen runs at 2 AM. Mikasa rolled her eyes but smiled whenever she caught you both tucked together on the quad, your sketchbook balanced on Hange’s knees while you argued about color theory versus chemical structure.

And little by little, against all odds, Hange Zoë— an infamous charmer, secret romantic, brilliant disaster— started building a home in your heart.

And for once, they stayed.

♡ a/n: i have sooo many hange college au reqs, send help.

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kirain · 4 months ago

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Part seven of my appreciation project.

@yappacadaver A fic based on their wonderful art piece here and here. Thank you for feeding the fandom!

The world stood still.

The battle was over, the blight vanquished, and Elgar'nan was dead. What remained of his influence was nothing more than hardened tendrils of corruption, now inert, forming a crude staircase down from the empty battlefield. One by one, the wearied heroes descended, each step agonising, their bodies battered but unbroken.

As Mara's boots met solid ground, the air shifted. Silence shattered into a wave of sound—a roar of celebration, clapping hands, shouts of triumph.

Applause.

Mara barely processed it. The cheers, the grateful weeping of the saved, the elation in the voices around her—it all seemed distant, as though she were submerged beneath dark waters. She saw it, knew what it meant, but she didn't feel it.

Her eyes swept over the crowd, their faces blurred and unimportant. She only wanted to see one man, and she found him.

Emmrich.

He stood nearby, his golden bracelets dulled by grime but still gleaming in the sun's rising light. His vest was torn, his shirt sticky with sweat and streaked with blood, his silver hair damp and unruly against his forehead. He was bruised and exhausted, yet he'd never looked more enticing.

As if sensing Mara's gaze, he turned towards her, his large hazel eyes brimming with need. A smile tugged at his lips, weak but fervent, ignoring the soreness in his joints. Before she could think, before she could breathe, he hobbled over to her and cupped her face with calloused, trembling hands.

And then he kissed her.

Mara inhaled greedily as his lips met hers, neither of them caring that hundreds were bearing witness. The way his mouth parted against hers, the heat of him, the way he tasted of steel and the residual drags of mana—it wasn't a dream nor an illusion. It was real.

They were alive.

They won.

As her hand caressed his cheek, her body balancing on her toes to reach him, his fingers curled at the nape of her neck, his other arm wrapping around her waist. Tilting her back, he deepened the kiss—a confession of every unspoken fear, every desperate prayer, every moment spent wondering if they'd survive.

"Darling..." he wheezed, his eyes flitting shut as he enjoyed her.

Simply enjoyed her. He hadn't had many opportunities, even after she escaped from the Fade. The best night of his life—their stolen hours in the Necropolis, the way they talked, touched, and made love—had also been the shortest. Made bittersweet knowing it could have been their last.

But now, it was over. The danger passed.

When they finally parted, their breaths mingled in the space between them, heavy and lustful. Mara wanted more, but as she moved to kiss him again, Emmrich suddenly stumbled back, the colour draining from his face.

"Emmrich?" she asked, following him.

His nose wrinkled, his hand coming up to cover his mouth. "I reek," he gagged. "Like blood and sweat." His eyes drifted to her swollen lips, mortified; surely she had noticed. "Forgive me. I don't know what came over me."

Mara laughed, catching him by the wrist. "You think that bothers me? Did you forget I'm a Crow?"

"It bothers me," he croaked. "Darkspawn, Venatori—who knows what pernicious pathogens they carried? I don't want to get you sick, my love."

Mara grinned, trailing a finger down the front of his tattered vest, her voice dropping to a sinful murmur.

"Then let's go take a bath."

Emmrich flinched, then returned her seductive expression.

The applause raged on, but for Mara, the only thing that mattered was the way the older man laced his fingers with hers, unwilling to let her go.

-----

The spring bath. A marvel to behold, where the heroes of Thedas were welcomed to bask in its luxury. The water lapped at Emmrich's chest, mending aches he'd neglected for days. The fragrant blend of elfroot oil, lavender, and daylilies clung to the steam rising around him, mixing with the fainter scent of the potted plants that lined the walls.

Everything about this place—calm, indulgent, long overdue—was a reward he never even dared to fantasise about.

As he raked wet fingers through his hair, he sighed, letting his head sink into the soft towel behind him. For the first time in months, he allowed himself to relax. He would never claim he'd earned it, but his companions had insisted. None would disturb him—save for one.

Soft footsteps echoed across the jade flooring, and Emmrich lifted his head to greet her.

Mara.

She stood at the edge of the bath, bare and radiant in the sunlight streaming through the high glass windows. Her dark hair tumbled over her shoulders in luscious waves, and her sharp eyes—usually so alert and calculating—now shined with a sense of freedom and serenity.

Emmrich held his breath, drinking her in. "You're so beautiful," he uttered.

"Even with my scar?" she asked, running her finger along the indentation from her left shoulder to her right breast.

"Darling," he said, a bright blush flaring across his cheeks, "every inch of you is perfect."

Mara smiled, then stepped into the tub, sinking gracefully into the water, the ripples distorting her reflection like a splash of paint on a canvas.

"You're perfect," she stressed, aware that he still harboured insecurities about his age.

Emmrich huffed, but before he could argue, she slid onto his lap, straddling him, her thighs caging his hips. Her arms wove around his neck, her skin like silk against his own.

For a long while, neither of them spoke, each one staring at the other with an aura of desire.

Then, their lips met in a slow, lingering kiss—one that spoke of solace and devotion. Emmrich's hands traced up her back, his fingers ghosting over her spine, muscle, and hints of grit left over from battle. He wanted her, needed her, and he refused to wait a second longer, lest some other threat tear her from his grasp. Gods, cultists—all of them be damned. With a hungry moan, he pulled her closer, pressing his lips to the delicate line of her jaw, then lower, to the pulse of her throat.

"Yes..." Mara gasped, tightening her embrace, burying her face into his neck.

"Are you ready, darling?"

He shifted beneath her, his hands finding her waist, preparing to move her into a more comfortable position—but then he froze.

She was shaking.

A light tremor at first, barely noticeable through the heat of the water. Then more pronounced.

Emmrich let out a low chuckle, trying to ease the tension he suddenly felt. "You must be very excited," he teased.

She didn't respond.

His stomach twisted.

"Mara?"

Still, nothing. Just the tightness of her arms around his shoulders, the slight shudder in her breath.

Then, he heard it—a partially suppressed sob. His heart clenched. Immediately, he wrapped her up, one hand sliding to the back of her head, his fingers threading through her hair.

"Darling, what's wrong?"

Another shaky breath. Another barely-there sob.

He rubbed her back, panic creeping into his tone. "Darling, please. Talk to me."

Mara inhaled loudly, as if forcing down another cry, then finally—finally—she spoke.

"I'm sorry..." she choked. "I ruined the moment."

"No, no. You didn't, my darling. You didn't." He tried to lean back, to see her face, but she was curled so tightly against him, as if hiding herself out of shame. "Mara, please... tell me what's wrong. You know you can tell me anything, yes? Please, darling, maybe I can help. What is it?"

She sniffed, shaking her head. "Nothing's wrong, Emmrich. For the first time in ages, nothing's wrong." She squeezed tighter, her legs hugging his hips, yet careful not to hurt him. "I just..."

Emmrich closed his eyes and rocked her through the water, willing the gentle motion to soothe her. "Go on, darling. I'm listening."

Mara sighed, his support a balm to her weary soul. "I've just been... holding everything in since Varric put me in charge." Her voice was raw, quiet. "I've been so—"

She swallowed her words, unable to say it.

"Scared?" Emmrich offered.

She nodded.

"Oh, Mara..." He held her tighter, giving her a moment to unwind. "Look at me."

Gently, he eased her back, his chest aching at the sight of the tears rolling down her cheeks. He'd never seen her like this—relief, sorrow, ecstasy, and fear overwhelming her all at once. Without hesitation, he cupped her face, brushing his thumbs beneath her lashes.

"I saw how hard this was on you every day, yet I can't even begin to imagine what you were going through," he said, his hazel eyes fixed on hers. "But I need you to hear this: we never would have made it without you."

She whimpered at his praise, her lips trembling. "I was so worried I'd fail everyone."

"You didn't," he said, his voice firm. "You were incredible. I was terrified of losing you, but if anyone could lead us to victory, I knew it was you."

"Emmrich, I didn't—"

"I knew it was you," he averred. "From the moment I met you, you were indomitable. You kept everyone's spirits up. You made the difficult decisions. You suffered a living nightmare in the Fade, but came through it stronger than before." He leaned in, pecking her lips before returning to her gaze. "Darling, it's over, but not despite your efforts—because of them. You're a natural-born leader." He grinned, playfully pinching her chin. "And so damn irresistible."

Mara let out a breath—half a laugh, half a sob. Then she smiled, resting her forehead against his.

"I'm sorry for... the hysterics."

"Hysterics?" He frowned. "How many times have I unloaded my problems onto you?"

"That was different," Mara chuckled. "And I was happy to help."

"It wasn't different," Emmrich tittered. "My love, you have nothing to apologise for, and I'm glad you shared that with me."

"...I'm just so tired."

Emmrich kissed her temple, cradling her close. "Then sleep. I've got you."

She was silent for a moment, soaking him in. Then, with a sudden scoff, she pulled back, mischief flickering through her exhaustion.

"I'm not that tired," she smirked.

Emmrich arched a brow, caught between amusement and adoration. "No?"

Mara shook her head, then kissed him again, her tongue pushing past his lips as the warmth of the bath enveloped them.

"Mmm..." Emmrich melted beneath her, his hands wandering lower as the heat between them intensified. "Not too tired for some 'rigorous activities'?"

"Never," she purred.

The steam thickened, swirling around them in a fog, until their world shrank to nothing but their sensual touch and the heady pounding of their hearts.

#emmrich volkarin #emmrook #emmrich x rook #dragon age the veilguard #rook x emmrich #da: the veilguard #veilguard #dragon age #fic #fan fiction #crow rook #appreciation project

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 years ago

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Chapter 17- No Ifs, Ands, or Butts

Summary: You and Javi are continuing to make progress on building your new house, until a few distractions are thrown your way that you definitely weren't expecting.

Word Count: 12.3K (how bad is it that I'm like, wow! What an average length for a chapter! Well done, me!)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), HELLO, STRAP IN EVERYONE. unprotected p in v sex (wrap it up irl pls), romantic? ANAL (you guys, I'm sweating), vaginal fingering, anal fingering, oral (f receiving), rimjob (f receiving), creampie, praise kink, breeding kink, insecurity but Javi being our consent KING and literally taking such good care of you (but would we expect anything less?!), Javi with dogs (hehehehe), everyone say thank you to our favorite village idiots Carter and Miller for helping out Javi and Osita (you'll see!!)

A/N: If there are two words to sum up the plot of this chapter, it is butts and dogs (if you watch Bluey, yes, the puppy is named after Muffin LMAO) 💀 I am so sorry this chapter took FOREVER, 1) Life has been crazy busy (parent teacher conferences sucked the life out of me for like a full week), and 2) I would be lying if I said I was not shakin' in my boots to post this bc I have never written legit butt stuff smut (say that 3 times fast) before and I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, so if you don't wanna read this chapter/skip the smut I will not be offended at all!! Also for my non-American friends, Home Depot is like a giant hardware store (that also sells hot dogs that absolutely slap) Okay, that's all, love y'all more than words, forehead kisses for all of you!! 😙 also please laugh at the name of this chapter I thought it was funny as hell, I'm crackin myself up

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“Okay, we have paint samples, countertop samples, carpet samples, sheets of drywall, toilets that are ordered can come get picked up on Tuesday, and we can let Danny know they finally have those screws he’s been looking for back in stock. That’s everything, right? Please say that’s everything.” You sighed, going over your home project to-do list for what felt like the 47th time before exiting out of Home Depot for what also felt like the 147th time this week.

What had started as a plot of land and and a head full of ideas was slowly but surely becoming reality as progress on your new home came to fruition- as winter faded into spring, your house began to grow and change with the seasons, bare bones wooden beams and dirt of a few months ago now becoming walls, floors and roofs of the new place you’d spend forever in. While it was exciting to move into the stages of actually deciding what the inside of your home should look like (not just shape and size), it felt like you and Javi had been making a million and one decisions every day related to something to do with the house, and unfortunately, this Sunday night was no exception.

“No, I think that’s everything.” Javi nodded, scanning over the wrinkled piece of paper in his hands once more.

“We might as well just start changing our permanent address to this Home Depot. I’m pretty sure the employees are convinced we live here at this point.” You laughed, resting one hand on your hip, the other full of the sample swatches you and Javi needed to look at when you got home. “You sure that’s everything? Honestly, even if it’s not, let’s face it, we’ll be here some point later this week anyways. At least now it’s getting to the fun stuff- Paint and floors is a lot more fun than plumbing and electrical.”

“I know. We’re almost there, Osita. Danny said 8 to 10 more weeks last time I talked to him.”

“Over/under on how many more trips we make to Home Depot between now and then. I’m gonna say 56.”

“You’re such a dork. I fucking hope it’s not 56.”

The two of you made your way out to the parking lot with hands full of goods, the sun slowly beginning to set behind the other buildings of the shopping center- a Chinese restaurant, a laundry mat, a building that had been under construction since your frequent trips to Home Depot began, and a pet store.

You and Javi had tried the Chinese restaurant once, a few bites in simultaneously agreeing it was 100% the worst food you had ever had, never needed to go to the laundry mat, and god knows what the mystery building was getting turned into. You had, however, always wanted to go into the pet store, knowing it would be fun to walk around and look at the animals since it was something you loved doing as a kid with your brothers. But by the time the two of you were done with your hardware shopping, your brain was too fried to ever ask Javi if he wanted to go in and check things out as an entertaining thing to do. Tonight probably would have been no exception to the rule, but that was before you noticed the big sign posted in front of the store reading “Dog Adoption Event Today!”

You and Javi had both agreed you had wanted to get a dog- that was something the two of you had easily agreed upon early on in your relationship- but like most things nowadays, you were waiting until the house was finished and you were out of the apartment before looking into getting one. You knew that going to look at dogs before the two of you could really do anything about it was a bad idea, but the longer you stared at that sign, the less and less willpower you began to have to keep yourself from running over there.

“Jav.” You nudged, the two of you almost to Javi’s truck before stopping in your tracks, gesturing over to the pet store. Javi paused next to you, taking a moment to read the bright bold letters of the sign, letting out a deep sigh as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Baby, you know we can’t get a dog right now. Believe me, I want one too, but we gotta wait until the house is done first.”

“I know. Can we just go look? Please?” While your puppy dog eyes were no match compared to Javi’s, you pouted your lip just about as far as it could go, batting your lashes at him with a pitiful frown on your face. You had no idea how Javi was ever going to be able to say no to your kids if he was already immediately caving from your silly, overexaggerated begging, let alone his own sweet brown eyes staring back at tiny versions of him. Regardless, right now, Javi’s lack of iron will was working in your favor, letting out another small sigh, contemplating for a moment before nodding his head in agreement.

“Fine. But just looking, okay?” He muttered, almost as if he was trying to convince himself as much as he was trying to convince you.

“Yes! Thank you! I promise, just looking… Probably.” You grinned, changing directions and speed walking across the parking lot towards the pet shop. Javi laughed to himself, shaking his head as he followed behind you.

“I heard that.”

As you walked through the front doors of the pet store, you were greeted with the sounds of high pitched barks and yaps, joining the few people gathered by the pen set up to contain the litter of what looked to be a mix of cattle dogs and something shorter and stumpier, the brown and cream speckled puppies bouncing and playing with the toys, blankets, and other littermates in the cage with them. You audibly let out a gasp as you looked down at the pure adorableness of the sweet little balls of fluff below you, squatting down next to the pen to get a better look at the group of puppies.

“Oh my god, they’re so cute. Javi, they’re so freaking cute. Hi lil babies, aren’t you the most precious things ever?” You cooed, holding the back of your hand up to the cage for the playful puppies to sniff, their tiny bodies toppling over each other to smell you.

As much as Javi wanted to be tough and strong willed to try and prove a point, you were right- these puppies were the cutest things he’d seen in a long time. Crouching down next to you, he glanced over, giving you the I told you this was a bad idea look that you knew you were bound to get from him the moment you saw the puppies.

“They are really fucking cute.” Javi sighed in reluctant agreement, bringing his hand down by yours to try and pet some of the puppies through the cage.

“Oh hi there! I see you two found the puppies!” An employee, an older woman with curly gray hair, smiled down at the two of you, gesturing towards the pen full of tiny, yapping pups. “Are you interested in adopting one?” You and Javi looked up at her, each of you letting out a deep breath before speaking at the same time, your answers lacking unison.

“No.”

“Maybe.” You quietly whispered under Javi’s no, letting out a little shrug, eyes darting away towards Javi to spare yourself from the eye roll you knew he was giving you from your response. “No, we’re not…” You finally agreed, giving another pouty, sad look to Javi. “We really want one, but we’re in an apartment right now and are moving into a house soon. We’re waiting until then to get one. Although these guys are making it very hard to keep it that way.”

“I can understand that.” The woman laughed, a playful grin spread across her face, clearly sensing your willpower about the situation was much weaker than Javi’s. “Well, even if you’re not interested in adopting one right now, you’re more than welcome to pick them up or play with them! It’s good for them to practice being handled anyways.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” Immediately, you stood up, bending over the edge of the pen to pick up one of the puppies closest to you, cuddling it against your chest as it squirmed and wiggled in your grasp. You sat bag down on the floor, cross legged as you cradled the puppy, eyes almost as wide and sweet as the dog you were now holding. “What’s this one’s name?” You asked the woman, carefully setting it down between your legs to let it bounce around.

“That one is Muffin. He’s a feisty one, but a sweetheart.” She beamed, slowly bending down to pick up one of the stuffed toys in the cage, handing it over to Javi. Before you knew it, Muffin was scooting out of your lap and bolting over to Javi and the plush rabbit he was holding in his hands, making the both of you giggle at his goofy, floppy gallop. Javi held out the toy in front of him, a smile spreading across his face as Muffin bit down into the rabbit, shaking it in his mouth, tugging back at Javi’s grip on the stuffed animal. Any shred of stubbornness Javi was trying to hold out on was long gone, smiling and snickering just as wide as you as Muffin hopped into Javi’s lap, curling up with his toy in his mouth.

Javi was like a little kid, practically giggling as he grabbed the stuffed rabbit and tossed it along the floor, watching Muffin slip and slide across the linoleum before pouncing on the toy and trotting back to Javi with it in his mouth.

“Good boy! You’re smart, aren’t you?” Javi grinned, tugging at the toy before looking back at you and your look, screaming, So much for just looking, huh? without having to say a word. “He is really cute.” Javi admitted, trying his best to keep his composure from completely crumbling. The two of you stared at each other for a moment, giving each other the look that made you seriously contemplate if you were going home with a puppy today, until you looked back down at Muffin, now hunched over Javi’s foot, pee dribbling down his shoe.

“Oh shit!” You grimaced, reaching up to pick up Muffin mid-stream, scooting him over to finish peeing on the floor instead of on Javi.

“Oh my goodness, I am so sorry!” The woman gasped, grabbing some towels next to the cage, handing them off to Javi for him to wipe the pee off his shoe. “That is the thing with puppies, the potty training does take a while.”

You were trying your best not to burst out into laughter as you picked Muffin back up, putting him back in the pen with the rest of his brothers and sisters, giving Javi and apologetic shrug at his current circumstances, knowing it was not helping your in any way shape or form to bring a puppy back to your apartment. “No it’s all good, no worries.” Javi smiled, wiping off his shoe with the towel and giving it a quick shake with a reluctant sigh, grounding him back in reality.

“Can’t be any worse than stepping in a pile of cow poop.” You teased as Javi looked down in disappointment at his shoe, finally beginning to shake his head and laugh along with you. “Alright, you win, Mr. Reasonable. Muffin has made a very good case for no puppies at the apartment.”

“Eventually baby, I promise.” Javi smirked, giving you a little nudge, the two of you waving goodbye to the cuteness corralled in the kennel behind you, finally making your way back to the car after your detour.

Well… So much for that plan.

“What about this one?”

“Baby, I don’t know, at this point, they all just look like the same color.” You sighed, slumping your hand in your face, resting your elbow on the kitchen table where you and Javi sat, paint swatches spread across the wooden surface, among scattered samples of carpet, countertops and backsplash tiles. “I don’t think my brain can make any more house decisions tonight.”

“Me either.” Javi huffed, reaching across the table to organize the paint sample cards into a pile next to the stack of other house things that now seemed to have a permanent home with you during dinner time. “I had no fucking idea there were so many goddamn shades of beige.”

“It definitely doesn’t help that we’re trying to just pick through different shades of brown instead of fun colors.” You laughed, gathering the samples in front of you and stacking them in Javi’s pile as he stood up, pushing in his chair and making his way to the other side of the table where you sat, coming behind you to drape his arms over your shoulders, pressing a soft kiss into your hair as you leaned your head back into his chest, wrapping your arms around his to pull him closer.

“Fun colors? What, you wanna paint the house purple, Hermosa?” Javi smiled, giving you a little shake in your chair making you giggle.

“No, you dork. I was actually thinking more hot pink or neon green.” You retorted, giving Javi a nudge back tiling your head up towards him. “No, I don’t know, I know we want something neutral through the house but like, it’ll be fun to pick cute paint colors when we have kids and stuff.”

Javi squeezed you a little tighter, his heart warming at the thought of when they’d get to do this again when there were actually kids in the picture to fill the empty rooms of their house. No matter how many times you and Javi talked about it, he was sure he’d never get over the fact that you wanted to have a family with him. It was a dream that had come and gone for him all those years ago, resigning himself to a life of simply surviving, even after he had returned home to Laredo. But now, the fact that dream was in reach, and undoubtedly in the near future had him beaming, knowing there was no one else in the world he wanted to spend the rest of his life and build a family with beside you, and that for some reason he still couldn’t quite comprehend, you felt the same way.

While you had agreed that you would wait until you were married and your house was completely finished before you started trying and your birth control made its permanent home in the trash, with every day that he got closer to marrying you, finalizing your house and starting the newest chapter of your lives together, Javi couldn’t help but feel a want, no, a need, to start a family with you- to fulfill a purpose he so desperately craved to be a father.

“Well…” Javi grinned, leaning back down to kiss your neck, his pecks becoming much more tender and slow with each press of his lips, “you could let me put a baby in you right now, and we could pick out fun paint colors along with the borning brown ones. Got a lot of rooms we need to fill and paint, Osita.”

“Javier Peña! You are a menace! You have to stop with the baby talk, or I swear, you’re about to make me cave in and crumble. You are testing every ounce of willpower I have.” You sighed, shaking your head as you looked up, entranced by Javi’s sweet brown eyes and their powerful effects.

While you and Javi both had undeniable cases of baby fever ever since you had gotten engaged, there was something about knowing you were about to have your own house with 4 extra rooms, solely built for the purpose of being filled with your kids that drove you, and even worse, Javi, absolutely crazy. In the past few weeks, the house had taken shape enough to finally have rooms that actually looked like rooms, Javi making it a point every time the two of you went over to check on progress, to point out just how good the spare bedrooms looked, like he was the most proud of those 4 extra rooms more than any other space in the house.

The irrational part of you would have given him a baby yesterday, but the rational part of you knew you wanted to be married and have every last inch of that house finished before you brought a baby there. But every time Javi saw those bedrooms, looking at you with that big, goofy grin on his face for his children that didn’t even exist yet, oh god, did it make you want to say fuck it to every ounce of rationality you had left.

“I think you have baby fever worse than I do, Jav. And that’s saying something.” You teased, reaching up to scrunch his cheeks. With another little giggle and content sigh, you pushed yourself up out of your chair, coming around the back of it to get the slightest running start to jump on him, full koala style, wrapping your arms and legs around his broad back, making the two of you burst out in laughter as he spun you around while you nuzzled your face in the crook of his neck, covering him with little kisses. “I love you so much. You’re gonna be such a good dad, you know that?”

“I love you too, Osita. I hope I am. I want to be.” Javi sighed, a hopeful half smile pursed between his lips, causing you to cup both your hands around his face, forcing him to look at you.

“You will be. I promise.” Tilting your head in, you pressed a soft, tender kiss onto his lips, lingering just a little longer than normal for your added reassurance. “Alright, I gotta get down now though, we have dishes we have to put away, and I have to shower tonight since I have a staff meeting tomorrow morning before school and I don’t wanna have to get up earlier than I need to.”

“Un beso más (One more kiss).” Javi smiled, gripping a little tighter on your thighs wrapped around his legs, refusing to let go until you fulfilled his request.

“Solamente un beso más? Por qué no dos? Tres? (Only one more? Why not 2? 3?)” You giggled, one of your hands running through the thick curls of his hair, while the other traced soft circles along his jawline.

“Me gustaría darte todos los besos, Osita. Te daría cualquier cosa. (I’d give you all the kisses, Osita. I’d give you anything.)” Leaning in, your mouths met again in a soft and sweet moment, a kiss that felt like he meant it- He would give you the world if you asked for it, and then some.

“God, I could kiss you forever. Alright, Romeo, put me down, we got things to do, and if you don’t, I know for a fact none of those things are getting done.”

“Fine.” He sighed overdramatically, letting your legs fall to the floor as he released his grasp. “I’ll clean up dinner and you can go take a shower.”

“I can help with cleaning up, Jav. You made dinner, the least I can do is-”

“Go get your ass in the shower. I’ll clean it up.” He smiled, planting a kiss on the top of your head before gesturing towards the bathroom, making you cross your arms over your chest with an unseriously stern look on your face.

“Are you trying to tell me that I smell? Rude. Sure you’re not the one who needs to shower after your foot got covered in piss?” You raised an eyebrow at him, trying your best not to laugh.

“Go shower, you dork.” Javi chuckled, giving your ass a playful slap as you parted ways, sticking your tongue out at him as you disappeared down the hallway and into the bathroom.

After a long, and even hotter shower than usual (considering you didn’t have to account for Javi’s temperature complaints), you wrapped yourself up in your towel and headed back to your room, where you found Javi laying in bed, reading one of the books you had been teasing him about for the past few weeks as it sat on his nightstand, unopened, even though he insisted he really was going to read it soon. As if the fact that him finally opening up and reading the book wasn’t enough to taunt him about, the way his face scrunched as he squinted at the pages certainly was.

“You doin’ alright over there, Grandpa? Jav, you just have to give in and get glasses, you know you can’t see anything, stop trying to fight it.” You giggled, your appearance in the bedroom catching Javi’s attention, making him rest his open book over his stomach.

“I don’t need glasses. I can see just fine. I’d look stupid in them, anyways.” He grumbled, refusing to admit that you were right even though he knew just as well as you that his eyesight was definitely not what it once was. He let out another sigh, dogearring the page of his book and setting it on his nightstand, his grumpy demeanor quickly shifting as you gave him that playful smirk you always did when you wanted to rub something in to prove your point. You let out another laugh as Javi rolled his eyes at you, shifting himself on the bed to lay on his side, face resting in his palm with those sweet puppy dog eyes that never left your sight any time he watched you get ready, even if all it meant was putting on one of his oversized shirts and sleep shorts to go to sleep in.

“Yeah, okay.” You replied, your voice oozing with sarcasm. “And you wouldn’t look stupid in glasses, you look hot in anything, and I’m sure you would look extra hot with 20/20 vision.”

“Pendejo…”

“You love me.”

The two of you laughed as you shuffled through the drawers of your dresser, pulling out one of Javi’s t shirts to wear to bed along with a pair of underwear and cotton shorts, piling the clothes next to you as you unwrapped your towel drying yourself off once more before letting it drop to the floor so you could change. You could see Javi’s reflection staring back at you, more specifically, your ass in the mirror, an awestruck and lustful look growing in his eyes as you reached over to pick up your shirt.

“I can literally feel your eyes burning a hole through my ass, Jav.” You sassed, smirking back at him through the mirror as you watched him bite down on his lip.

“Fuck, I love your ass so much, you know that?” Javi rasped, his tongue gently darting between his lips, eyes still locked on your behind.

“Yes, Javi, you are very adamant about letting me know how much you love it.” You snickered, slipping his shirt over your head, followed pair your pair of underwear, opting to completely forgo your shorts to play into his comment. You crawled up into bed next to him, nudging him over so his back laid on the mattress and you laid on top of him, pressing a soft, slow kiss against his lips as his hands roamed down your back, sneaking under the hem of your shirt to knead the soft flesh of your ass, letting out a low groan as your mouths met.

“Because it’s fucking perfect.” He hummed, gripping his fingertips even deeper into your skin after sliding them under the thin, cotton fabric covering it.

“Wow, someone’s in a mood about my butt tonight. Didn’t know your giant t-shirt and my plain ass underwear was really doin’ it for ya.” You joked, a little grin spread across your face as you ran your hands through Javi’s hair before sliding them down his face to cup his jaw. It didn’t take long for you to realize that the look on Javi’s face had quickly turned from one of lust to deep thought, his brow scrunched and nostrils flared, making you tilt your head in confusion. “What’s wrong?” You asked, immediately noticing the shift in his demeanor. “You only get that look when you’re really thinking hard about something, or you have to fart and you’re trying to hold it in, and I’m really hoping it’s not the second one.”

Your comment was enough to snap him out of his own thoughts, making him shake his head as the two of you laughed, Javi still holding back slightly as his eyes shifted down towards the mattress, practically hearing the gears in his brain turning, when all of a sudden, it clicked with you.

Oh shit.

The combination of his stare down and silence told you everything you needed to know.

You tilted his chin back up towards your face, a curious smirk stretched between your lips as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“You wanna fuck my ass, don’t you?”

Your voice was sweet and sultry, immediately making Javi’s face go blank in shock that you had connected the dots before he had even said anything. You could hear your heart pounding in your chest almost as loudly as Javi’s, a nervous swarm of butterflies filling your stomach as you waited for him to respond.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about it before. There had been plenty of times that Javi had put a thumb or fingers in your ass when he fucked you from behind, and holy shit, did it feel good whenever he did it. You’d honestly debated bringing it up before, but there was a part of you that could never bring yourself to do it because you never had, and you couldn’t help but feel nervous about it.

It wasn’t that you didn't trust Javi- You’d trust him with your whole life without a second thought. There had never been a time since the moment you first had sex that your comfort wasn’t always his first priority. But with how full Javi felt inside you with just a thumb or a finger, couldn’t help but make you feel a little worried with how big he’d feel with his whole dick inside your ass.

You also couldn’t help but feel a preemptive guilt if it ended up being too much and you had to ask him to stop, not that he would ever make you feel bad about it, but still, you couldn’t help but play out worse case scenarios in your head. But something about that look in his face as he stared you down in the mirror and head turning deep in thought was enough to spark that little flame of confidence you had brewing and beat him to the punch.

“Hermosa…” He paused, the Adam's apple of his throat bobbing as he gulped, taking an anxious deep breath. “Baby, I-”

“Do you?”

The tightened grip of his fingers in your ass, gentle nod of his head and the low groan releasing from his chest was all you needed to know to figure out the answer to your question without even needing Javi to say a single word. His free hand mirrored yours, cupping your cheek as the two of you locked hungry gazes with each other, Javi now finally working up enough confidence to respond.

“I want to so fucking bad.” Javi rasped, his dark brown eyes filled with a mix of desperation and need for reassurance. “But if you don’t want to, I don’t ever want to make you do something you’re not comfortable with. I promise, I won’t be upset about it at all.” The confident facade you had been fronting quickly began to crumble, your body flooding with a combination of nerves and excitement.

“I do, I just- I- I’ve never done it before.” You weren’t sure how your voice had gotten so small and meek- maybe it was the reality of what you were about to do setting in at a rapid pace. Something about the sweet, soft innocence of your voice already had Javi hard as a rock, using every ounce of willpower to keep his composure, considering how even just the thought of even getting to put his dick in your ass already had him on edge.

“That’s okay. Like I said, it’s only if you want to, baby. We can take it slow and if it’s too much, I’ll stop, no questions asked.”

You could feel your head beginning to gently nod in agreement as Javi’s thumb rubbed soft circles on your jaw, a little smirk forming between your cheeks while your heart raced at a million miles per hour, almost feeling as worked up and nervous as the very first time the two of you had sex all that time ago.

“I want to.” You whispered, letting your lips meet his in a tender and ferocious passion, muted moans escaping from each of your parted mouths.

“You’re sure? I don’t want you to say yes just because I want to.” And fuck, could you feel how badly he wanted to, his fully hard dick straining against the fabric of his sweatpants, heavy against your thigh. You were no better despite your nerves, the cotton fabric of your underwear absolutely drenched already without Javi even touching you.

“I’m sure. I promise.”

A low groan rumbled deep in Javi’s chest as your mouths met again, Javi flipping you over so your back was flat against the mattress, letting his hands roam along your body while his lips traveled down your neck and collarbone. “I’m gonna make you feel so good, sweet girl. Gonna take my time with you, okay? I promise I’ll make sure you’re ready.”

“Well I appreciate you just not going straight to shoving your dick into my ass, very gentlemanly of you.” You joked, trying to calm your nerves with your sarcastic wit, Javi practically snorting at your comment.

“Jesus fucking Christ…” Javi whispered to himself through his laughter, resting his head on your chest as he looked up at you in amusement.

“Sorry, I’ll stop and let you get back to business.” Javi lay frozen, still staring up at you with his head cocked to the side, eyebrows raised.

“Osita, you know I love you very much, right?”

“Yes.”

“And that since we’ve been together, I’ve learned a lot of things about you?

“Also yes.”

“So you know I can tell when you’re nervous about something, right?”

You let out a defeated sigh, crossing your arms in stubborn defiance, not wanting to admit that you knew Javi’s suspicions were correct. You waited a moment, and with a little frown pursed between your lips, you finally gave in.

“...Yeah.”

Javi rolled over next to you, draping one arm over your waist, the other holding his chin in his hand with his elbow propped up against the mattress, his tender gaze locking with yours, filling you with a sense of calm and reassurance you were convinced nothing else in the world could. “Osita, talk to me baby. What are you nervous about?”

You flapped your arms up before planting them over your face, burying your head in your hands in embarrassment, your words muffled from underneath your palms. “What am I nervous about? Not to stroke your ego any more than it needs to be, but you have a huge dick, Jav. I’m also guessing this isn’t your first time, and it is for me, and you being the first giant dick to ever enter my ass has me a little nervous.” You rambled, your thoughts spilling out of your mouth faster than your brain could process them. “I really want to, I just don’t want it to not be good for you or for you to be upset if we stop or- I don’t know. I don’t want you to be mad about it if I’m the reason for- I- I’m probably overthinking it, I’m sorry.” You let out another deep exhale, averting your gaze from Javi’s staring down at the bed.

This time, it was Javi’s turn to connect the dots, taking a moment to wonder why you were so worried about making him upset before putting the pieces together, his prediction making him clench his jaw in frustration. “Paul wanted to do it and you said no and he was a fucking asshole to you about it, wasn’t he?”

Your head instantly shot up, swiveling around towards Javi’s agitated grimace, your face almost as shocked as Javi’s was when you had asked him if he had wanted to do this in the first place. “How… Javi, how did you-”

“That motherfucker… he didn’t hurt you did he? I swear to God if he did, I’ll fucking fly up to Chicago right now and I’ll-”

“Jav, Jav, cool your jets, killer.” You laughed softly, pressing your hand to his cheek to try and ground him before he really was on the next flight to Illinois. “No, he never did anything. He said that he wanted to and it kinda came out of the blue- I didn’t really want to at the time, especially not with him. He kept asking and asking and I would tell him no and he got so mad about it. Turns out that was around the time he started cheating on me anyways, and became an even bigger dickhead than he already was. But I always felt so guilty, and that it was my fault he was upset because I didn’t want to. I don’t know- I- I guess maybe this has stuck with me way more than it probably should have.” You could feel your voice shrinking, your eyes darting away once again, mortified by the fact that you completely ruined the moment by bringing up your shitty ex and his blatant lack of respect. “Sorry, I don’t know why we’re talking about this I-“

Before you could finish the rest of your sentence, Javi’s lips were on yours, swallowing the rest of your words as your mouths met with a passionate intensity, letting his arm wrap around your waist, pulling you in closer, caging his chest against yours. “Hermosa, you know I would never be mad at you about something like that, right? I love you, Osita, you have nothing to apologize for. All I ever want is to make you feel good, baby. Fuck, that gets me off more than anything else. Whatever you want, I’ll give it to you.”

“I trust you, Javi.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, lips grazing over his, giving him a gentle nod of reassurance. “I want you to.”

You could audibly hear the gulp Javi had let out, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as he let out a low groan, tightening the grip he had around your waist. “Want me to what, sweet girl? I wanna hear you say it, baby.” His lips began to travel down your jawline towards your neck, hot and wet presses languidly making their way to your collarbone as he tugged at the end of your shirt, snaking his hands up the soft skin of your stomach. You could feel the heat building in your core, letting out a soft moan as his hands palmed at your breasts, rolling your pebbled nipples between the tips of his fingers.

“I want you to fuck my ass, Javi.”

With that, his hands were shuffling your shirt over your head, tossing it over the side of the bed before letting his kisses make their way down your newly exposed skin, letting his tongue flick along each nipple before letting his gaze lock with yours, a small smirk spreading across his face. “I promise I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, Hermosa. Gonna take good care of you, baby, I swear.”

“I know.” You nodded, staring back at the hunger pooling in the dark brown of his eyes, practically squirming in the sheets of your bed from the throbbing between your legs, feeling the slick almost dripping down your thighs from just how turned on you were. The grin on Javi’s face had become devilish, biting down on his bottom lip as he snaked his hand down your front, tugging at the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your legs before running a finger through your slit, already drenching him with your arousal.

“Turn around, baby. Hands and knees, okay?” You could hear the subtle smugness in his tone, giving you a playful squeeze as he grabbed your hips, flipping you over face down on the mattress, making you squeal. You did Javi one better, laying your chest flat against the sheets, lifting your ass up in the air and giving it a little shake, Javi’s hands instantly kneading at the soft flesh in front of him, digging his fingertips deeper into your skin, feeling his hot breath hovering over your cunt.

Suddenly, you felt a long, wide strip of his tongue through your folds, pressing hard and intensely along your clit before diving in like a man starved, lapping you up as he began to eat you out from behind. Each stroke of his tongue was more persistent than the last, the grip of his hands on your hips pulling your heat closer to his face as he licked and sucked at your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of your slick and his saliva coating your inner thighs. His feverish pace already had you fisting at the bedsheets, whimpering and moaning as his mouth worked along your dripping core, making you gasp even further when you felt his tongue begin to travel up towards your tight ring of muscle.

“Oh holy fuck- Javi, oh my god, baby. Fuck me, oh shit.” You whimpered as Javi’s tongue swirled along your puckered hole, dancing around the edges before dipping inside, the sensation making you shudder in pleasure, feeling Javi’s low hum of approval deep in the back of his throat. If that wasn’t enough, one of the hands that had a tight grip on your ass was now collecting the slick dripping from your entrance, his fingers tracing through your folds before pressing firmly on your clit, the added stimulation immediately making the tingle begin to build at the base of your spine. As he worked at your hole, the pads of his fingers circling your sensitive bundle of nerves you could feel your breath becoming ragged, letting out a few more shaky exhales before your orgasm crashed through you, crying out into the soft fabric of the sheets, pleasure and euphoria flooding your body.

As you came down from your high, Javi let his hands slide gently up and down your sides, pressing soft kisses along your back until he had made his way up your shoulder blades and neck, whispering tenderly into your ear. “Such a good girl for me, Osita. Came so hard letting me eat out that pretty little ass of yours. You want me to keep going?”

“Fuck yes, oh my god Javi, please.” You whimpered, shaking your head frantically as you looked back at Javi, already sitting back on his knees to lift his shirt over his head before sitting up to kick off his sweatpants and boxers, letting his cock spring free, precum glistening and weeping from his tip, considering how painfully hard he had been since even the thought of getting to fuck your ass.

You could feel his body hovering over yours, hands sliding up and down your sides before grabbing at your ass again, placing tender kisses on each cheek before leaning over to the nightstand on his side of the bed, pulling out the bottle of lube and setting it next to him. His hands roamed to your core once again, two fingers dipping into your cunt, curling to hit the soft, spongy spot inside you that already had you moaning again.

It wasn’t long until his fingers were substituted for his cock, running his tip through your folds, collecting your arousal along his length before slowly pushing inside your pussy, already so wet and worked up, that even with sweet sting of his stretch, he still slid in with ease, setting a steady, even pace as one hand dug into your hip, the other reaching over to grab the bottle of lube, popping open the cap with a click and letting the cool liquid drip over your tight hole, making you gasp. You could feel the pads of his fingers pressing at the entrance to your ass, gently teasing you open with one finger, breeching up to his knuckle, the combination of both his finger and cock inside you making you whimper in pleasure.

“That’s it. Such a good girl. Fuck, you’re already so fucking tight around my finger. You want another one in there, baby?” Javi mewled, prodding his finger deeper into your hole as he continued to thrust into you, his strokes slow and steady, but still punching deep into your g-spot with each thrust of his hips against the back of your thighs.

“Yes- oh fuck- yes, oh my god.” You weren’t really quite sure how your brain was still even managing to form words at this point, the warm feeling that had been growing inside you spreading to every inch of your body. The pad of Javi’s second finger teased at your tight hole, collecting ample amounts of you slick and lube before pushing in to join the first, the thickness of both of his fingers making you clench even tighter around his cock and digits as you cried out in delight.

“Shhhhhh, I know, sweet girl. Relájate (relax) baby, I’ve got you.”

You could already feel your second orgasm starting to build again, heat beginning to bloom in your belly from the rhythmic pounding of Javi’s dick punching against your g-spot and his fingers prodding at the nerve endings of your ring of muscle, already feeling so full from the stretch of both holes.

“Fuck, fuck fuck- oh fuck- Javi, I’m gonna cum again, fuckahhhhhhh-” You cried out, letting your second orgasm hit you even harder than your first, clenching down around Javi’s cock and fingers as you grabbed at handfuls of your bedsheets, trying to ground yourself as the intensity of your pleasure ripped through you.

“There you go, Hermosa. That’s it, baby. Such a good girl. Did so good for me.” He cooed, gently pulling out both his cock and fingers, the emptiness making you shutter as Javi pressed tender, soft kisses down your back before making his way up your neck and nipping at your ear. “You think you’re ready for me, Osita? If not, it’s okay, I only wanna do what you want, mi amor (my love).”

You took another few ragged breaths to compose yourself, unsure how your brain was even managing to function at this point as you came down from your high, trembling in delight. You nodded before you could speak, Javi letting out a low groan as he sucked at your pulse point, his words hot and heavy against your skin.

“Need to hear you say it, pretty girl. Tell me what you want and it’s yours.”

“Fuck my ass, Javi. I want you to fuck my ass, please baby.” You whined, whimpering your words against the soft fabric of your sheets, desperate for more, needing to feel all of him inside you in a way you hadn’t before.

Javi let out an audible groan as he pulled back, letting his hands roam up your body and back to the lube resting on the bed, once again, popping open the cap and squirting some of the liquid into his palm as he fisted his dick, stroking himself a few times before lining himself up with your tight hole. “You promise you’ll tell me if you want me to stop?”

You shook your head rapidly, fingers already gripping into the pillow in front of you as you braced yourself for Javi to enter, feeling his tip press against your tight ring of muscle. Suddenly, you could feel the sensation of Javi breeching your entrance, making you gasp at just how full you already felt as he had barely made his way inside you. Javi pushed further in, leaving you practically breathless from the stinging stretch of his cock filling you as he paused halfway, leaning over to check on you.

“Oh fuck me- You okay, sweet girl?”

“Mhhmmmmmm. Fuck Javi, you feel so big. Holy shit, baby. Oh fuck.” You gulped, squeezing around Javi’s length as he inched deeper and deeper inside of you, your clit and cunt throbbing as he filled you, the newfound sensation making you see stars. You were so focused on how you were feeling, you had barely noticed how tightly Javis fingertips were gripping into the soft flesh of your ass, like he was bracing himself for dear life as he sunk further and further into your tight hole.

While Javi had found himself in this position with other women a handful of times before, he had never come close to feeling the same way about anyone the way he did about you- He had been dreaming about the day that you agreed to let him fuck your ass, and now finding himself inside you, knowing he would be the first and the last to ever have you like he was right now, had him on the brink of busting any second if he wasn’t careful. Javi had never been more thankful that you couldn’t see his face, because he knew he looked absolutely wrecked and was struggling to keep the ounce of composure he had left as you gripped around his cock like a vice.

“Javi, oh shit- Javi, you can move baby.” You moaned, adjusting to his fullness, the initial pain quickly transforming to burning hot pleasure as you gave Javi the green light to keep going. After a few seconds, when Javi had said nothing and hadn’t moved at all, you spoke again, thinking maybe he hadn’t heard you. “Javi, I’m good, you can-”

“I know, I know, fuck- sorry, baby. Jesus Christ- you’re so fucking tight, Hermosa, fuck me. Give me a second or I’m gonna fuckin’ bust right now.” Javi replied, halfway between a whimper and a moan as he firmly grasped your hips, carefully setting a slow pace as he began to thrust in and out of your ring of muscle, shocked to feel how quickly heat was beginning to bloom in your belly once again, his length languidly sliding in and out of your asshole, filling you and striking new nerve endings you had never felt before making you quickly begin to come undone.

Your legs began to tremble, grasping at the mattress to brace yourself as you felt your clit throb and cunt clench as the coil in your belly tightened further and further, the lewd noises of your moans and grunts filling the room.

“Javi, fuckfuckfuck, oh my god, baby I’m so close again, holy fuck.” You cried out, as even just the slightest pick up of Javi’s pace had you reeling closer and closer to the edge of your release. Javi freed one of his hands, snaking it between your legs to rub at your sensitive bundle of nerves, already swollen and pulsing from your first two orgasms, and now even more responsive as the pads of his fingers circled against it.

Javi wanted desperately to hold out for you and make you cum as many times as you wanted to just like this, but he knew damn well the moment you came and clamped down even harder around his cock than you already were, he was a fucking goner and going right along with you. He needed to give you one more before he also came embarrassingly fast, but he couldn’t help it.

“Fuck Osita, fuck- I’m not gonna last much longer either, baby. Need you- oh shit- need you to give me one more, pretty girl. Cum for me, Hermosa, I’ve got you.”

With only a few more strokes and circles around your clit, you were cumming so hard, you were honestly convinced you had blacked out. Your whole body shook as you wailed in delight, squeezing around Javi’s dick so hard it was only seconds before he was following suit, letting a ragged groan escape through his gritted teeth as you milked him of every last drop, Javi bracing himself for dear life with the grasp he had around your hips as he finished.

Javi slumped over you, the two of you breathing so heavily it sounded more like you had just finished a triathlon more than anything else. He let out a deep hiss as he pulled out, taking a moment to admire his work as he watched his spend drip out your tight hole as your body collapsed onto the mattress.

You weren’t sure how long you had been laying there before you were finally able to wrangle the brain power to speak again, and even then, the only words that you were able to manage were a quiet “holy fucking shit…”

Javi flopped down, laying on his back next to you as you rolled over, both of your faces bright and blissed as you stared at one another, almost unsure of what to say.

“Are you okay?” Javi asked, gently cupping your flushed cheek in his palm.

“Am I okay? Javi… Holy fuck. I don’t think I have ever cum so hard in my entire life. I honestly thought I blacked out there for a second. Baby… That was, fuck, that was insane.” You half laughed to yourself, shaking your head in disbelief. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fucking great. Holy shit. Sorry I couldn’t last longer, I didn’t think I was gonna go that fast but you felt so fucking good. Thank you, Osita.”

“Thank you? For what?” You giggled, giving Javi a playful poke on the chest as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“For this. For trusting me.”

“Javier Jesús Peña…” You smirked, propping yourself up on your arm to get a better look at him, “I trust you with my life. More than anyone I’ve ever met. I should be the one thanking you for so graciously taking my butt virginity. Wouldn’t want anyone else in there besides you.”

The two of you burst into laughter, Javi practically letting out a snort as he rolled his eyes at your ridiculous comment. “God, you’re fucking ridiculous. I love you, Osita.”

“I love you too, Javi. C’mon, let's go shower before your cum sits in my asshole any longer and I get pregnant with your butt baby.” You snickered as you rolled off the bed, making your way to the bathroom.

“Jesus fucking Christ… Butt baby? Seriously?” He snorted, following behind you, giving you a playful smack on your ass, scooping you up to hike you over his shoulder and fireman carry you to the shower, making you squeal. “You’re so fucking weird.”

“Weirdo you love enough to put your dick in my ass and make your wife, so that’s on you, Jav.” You giggled as Javi set you down on the cool tile of the bathroom floor, giving him a little shrug before reaching into the shower to turn on the water.

“And what a fucking lucky man I am.”

Ever since starting his job at the Laredo Sheriff's Department, Javi had been able to count on a few things every morning when he got into work. Sheryl at the front desk would greet him with a half hearted “Good morning, Javier” , the smell of shitty work coffee would be brewing in the break room, and Agent Carter and Miller already arguing about something stupid at their desks instead of working on anything that actually needed to get done. That’s why when Javi made his way into work on Monday morning and was not greeted by any of those things, he knew his day was getting thrown for a loop- he just wasn’t quite sure how yet.

“It was their idea, not mine, believe me.” Sheryl grumbled, rolling her eyes as she nodded towards the path to Javi’s office, holding her hands up in defense as if to prove she had nothing to do with whatever was going on beyond her desk. Javi paused, tilting his head and scrunching his brow in confusion at Sheryl before letting out a sigh, and hesitantly making his way back to find out what in the world she was talking about.

He was surprised by the lack of Miller and Carter’s presence in their desk chairs, and the unusual silence filling the office as Javi turned his head, wondering where everyone was. He peered over the cubicles, looking for any sign of life, until a strange sound caught his attention from behind the door of his office.

Woof, woof, woof!

Javi shook his head, convinced he must be hearing things until the low bark repeated, followed by a hush of anxious voices whispering around the corner.

“Oh no, shhhhhh! Shit, I didn’t think he was gonna bark.”

“Well it’s a fucking dog, Carter, what the hell did you think it was gonna, do, meow?”

“Maybe he didn’t hear it.”

“I highly doubt that, dumbass. God, he’s gonna be fucking pissed.”

“Your idea, not mine.”

Even though he couldn’t see them, Miller and Carter’s worried whispers were enough to let Javi know he wasn’t imagining the barking coming from behind his office door. Letting out a deep sigh, which sounded a lot more like a groan, Javi carefully twisted open the doorknob to his workspace, only to be greeted by a large, shaggy and very dirty Golden Retriever staring back at him with big brown eyes, happily wagging its tail and shaking excitedly at Javi’s presence. Although Javi had heard the bark from behind his door, it didn’t stop him from doing a double take from the dog now residing in his office, running his hand over his face in a confused frustration as to how and why Miller and Carter had already managed to make his Monday morning a pain in his ass.

“Why the fuck is there a dog in my office?” Javi half shouted, making Carter and Miller sheepishly appear from around the corner with guilty looks on their faces, avoiding eye contact with Javi as he glared through the two of them, wondering how the hell they were going to try and talk themselves out of this one.

“Hey Peña, uh, I uh… Listen Miller was the one who brought him in, and he was so cute that I wasn’t not gonna do anything about it and-”

“Oh, way to throw me under the fucking bus, Carter!” Agent Miller huffed, cutting Carter off in attempts to let the blame completely fall on him. “You agreed we should keep him here so that we could-”

“Okay, that still doesn’t explain why the fuck there’s a dog in my office.” Javi groaned, cutting off Carter and Miller before they found themselves in a pointless arguing match about how and why there was now a dog happily leaning itself against Javi’s leg, his tail shaking back and forth, completely enamored by Javi.

It was taking everything in Javi not to reach down and pet him to try and prove a point to Carter and Miller that they had astronomically fucked up the rest of his plans for the morning, but the dog was sure as hell adorable and sweet as could be.

“Okay, well, I was driving into work this morning, and as I was making my way down that back road past the cattle ranch a few blocks down from here, this guy ran out in the road. Thank God I saw him when I did. I stopped, got out, and he came right up to me, but there was obviously no one with him. He looked relieved that he’d found me. Poor guy is dirty and skinny as hell. He hopped right into my car and ate the rest of my McGriddle which I was kinda pissed about, but I can’t blame ‘em.” Miller sighed, now crouching down to give the dog some scratches on the head before continuing on with his story. “So I went to some of the houses on the street and no one had ever seen this dog before. I called Webb County Animal Control to see if anyone had reported a missing dog that looked like him, but no one had. I asked if I should take him to the shelter to see if anyone would come for him, but the lady on the phone said if no one’s reported him missing, they probably wouldn’t come for them.”

“Well tell him what else, Miller.” Carter encouraged, trying to aid in Miller’s defense as he rose back up, standing next to his partner.

“When I called the animal shelter to ask them what to do, the woman I talked to said the shelter is so full, that if we brought him in and no one claimed him within the next two weeks, that they’d…” Miller trailed off, him and Carter both grimacing, unable to finish the rest of his sentence as he looked down at the gleeful, furry face staring back up at him. “Well, let’s just say that things weren’t gonna look so good for him. I couldn’t bring myself to drop him off, and I wasn’t just gonna fucking leave him, so, I uh- I brought him here.”

Javi let out a deep sigh, burying his hands in his face for a moment before rubbing his temples, understanding why Miller had done what he did, but nonetheless, still frustrated that now he had become wrapped up in solving a missing dog case.

“So what? Are you gonna keep him?” Javi questioned, finally giving in to bend down and give the dog a few pats on his side, feeling just how skinny and boney he was as his hand met his belly.

“Oh no, I can’t keep him. Apartment doesn’t allow dogs. I would if I could.” Miller admitted, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, feeling guilty for his lack of helpful response.

“What about you? You keeping the dog?” Javi asked, looking over at Carter, giving him a little shrug, hoping he was the solution to his temporary canine problem.

“Um, no. Sorry. I’m allergic. He’s cute as hell but my eyes have been itching ever since he got here.”

“So what, he’s just gonna live here? C’mon you guys, really?” Javi grumbled, now crouching down next to the dog, getting a better look at his begging eyes and goofy grin under his panting tongue, giving Javi a few licks on the face in excitement as his tail began to wag rapidly from Javi’s closeness.

Javi couldn’t help but let out a little laugh as the dog lapped against his face, wrapping his hands around the dog’s head and giving it a playful rub to get the dog to stop before staring back at the sweet, sad eyes staring back at him. He scratched under the dog’s chin before it was snuggling up next to him, comfortably plopping himself down over Javi’s feet and letting out a content little grumble as his tail continued to thump against the floor in joy.

Javi closed his eyes, letting out a sigh. A deep sigh. Not because he didn’t like this dog. Hell, not even because he was really that mad at the two office idiots for bringing the dog here this morning. Javi let out a long, exasperated sigh, because he could feel the willpower he had preached to you about holding out on a dog until the new house- a conversation he had just had with you last night- was absolutely crumbling.

He couldn’t come home with a dog, right? He had just spent all of last night convincing you that the apartment wouldn’t be a good place for a dog. But… that was for a puppy. This was a full grown dog. A calm one, at that. A fucking cute one at that. God, it had been 5 minutes and this dog was already attached at the hip to him, and it was probably fair to say that Javi had gotten just as attached, if not more. Carter and Miller were right, with the shape the dog was in, it really did look like no one had been taking care of him, or had any plans to come and find him, and Javi couldn’t bear the thought of sending the dog off to the shelter, knowing his inevitable fate.

Fuck.

“Okay, well, do you know anything else about him? Are you sure that there’s no one looking for him?” Javi grunted as he pushed himself back up to stand, trying to keep his cool as he looked over at Carter and Miller, their eyes still peeled to the ground in hopes the lack of direct eye contact would lessen their chances of a complete reaming from Javi.

“No, boss. Only other thing we could find about him was the little tag on his collar, which wasn’t helpful at all, because it only had his name.” Carter shrugged, peeking up at Javi, surprised by the even keel of his tone. Javi bent back down, the dog immediately rolling over on his back and exposing his belly for Javi to pet as he reached towards the dog’s neck, gently tugging at the tethered collar under his tangled fur to read the poorly engraved tag attached, letting out an even bigger sigh and shaking his head in disbelief at the name.

Bear.

Of fucking course. As if the universe needed to send him another sign. Of fucking course the dog’s name was the same as his nickname for you, Osita- little bear.

Javi couldn’t help but laugh to himself, running his hand over his face once again. “Shit. You sure no one’s looking for him?”

Both Carter and Miller shook their heads, crossing their arms over their chests in sad disappointment at Bear, laying sprawled across Javi’s feet. Letting out one last reluctant exhale, Javi looked back at the pair, nervously awaiting his response before he spoke.

“If… If no one calls looking for him by the end of the day… I’ll take him home with me.”

Carter and Miller’s faces lit up in shock and delight, staring at Javi, dumbfounded by what they had just heard. “I mean… Fuck, well… that was way easier than I thought it was gonna be.” Miller half grumbled to himself, glancing over at Carter, like he was waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“I obviously don’t have any dog shit at home so I’m gonna have to leave early today to get some, so you two idiots are gonna have to finish up the rest of the paperwork I needed to do this afternoon, we clear?”

“Yeah, yup- Absolutely. Will do.” The two nodded in agreement, still in shock that the worst they had gotten from their boss from dropping a stray dog off in his office was the rest of his paperwork for the day.

“Fuck me. Alright, c’mon Bear.” Javi sighed, pushing open his office door, Bear, happily trotting along behind him, tail wagging in delight as Carter and Miller stared back at each other, frozen in shock that they, with very little convincing, had gotten their boss to happily take their furry problem into his own hands.

If the fact that Bear wasn’t cute as can be was enough to win over Javi, he was also the sweetest, most relaxed dog he’d had ever met. Bear was perfectly content to lay down next to Javi’s desk, letting out content grumbles and sighs as he slept and Javi worked, sprawled out across the floor. Bear also seemed to love everyone he met, joyfully making his rounds around the station with Javi after a failed attempt at leaving him behind in his office, immediately caving to Bear’s sad, lonely whines and big brown eyes from behind the glass of his office window. Around 2:00 PM, after Javi had given Bear the better half of his turkey sandwich for lunch, he found himself just as hungry as that poor dog probably was this morning, deciding to cut his day short to get himself some food, and gather whatever else he needed before bringing Bear back to the apartment.

Javi thanked whatever higher power that the woman working at the pet store this afternoon was not the same woman he had adamantly convinced last night that he was not coming with a dog, because in the back seat of his truck, sat a dog he was now bringing home. The woman working at the store had helped Javi to find everything he needed for Bear and probably then some, Javi more than thankful for her patience and advice, feeling overwhelmed by what to get for a dog that had landed in his care only a few short hours ago.

After 2 trips up your apartment stairs to drop off the bed, food, treats and toys Javi had gotten, he made one final trip back for Bear, who had glady hopped out of the truck and followed Javi back to your place after a quick pee on the bush in the parking lot, leaving Javi very thankful the dog had found a spot to relieve himself that wasn’t on his shoe.

“Well, welcome home, I guess.” Javi chuckled as Bear busted through the apartment door, tail wagging at a propeller like speed as he meandered through the space, sniffing and exploring around the kitchen and living room, before wandering back to the bags from the pet store Javi had set on the ground, giving them a little prod with his snout before sitting next to them, looking up at Javi as if to ask if he could have the food and treats that were inside. “Well… I guess a little more food couldn’t hurt, right?”

There were very few times where Javi was home from work before you, and when he did, he normally told you before he left, or called you at work to let you know- so when you pulled into the parking lot to see Javi’s truck next to your empty parking space, it was safe to say you were a bit perplexed. You quickly unpacked your bags from your car, making your way up to the apartment, trying to rationalize with your confusion and nerves as to why Javi had beaten you home. As you unlocked your door, you gently pushed it open, now even more confused by the muffled grunts and swearing coming from down the hallway. Dropping your things at the entryway, you quickly began working your way through the apartment to figure out what was going on before you almost tripped and fell over a large dog bed now in the middle of your living room.

“What the hell…” You murmured to yourself, your brow scrunching in bewilderment as you caught your step over the soft, plushy surface, doing a double take to realize that what had almost taken you to the ground was a dog bed. Looking over, you then noticed the several bags from the local pet store, now even more puzzled as your attention shifted back to the end of the hallway, hearing Javi’s voice as well as the sound of running water and frantic splashing.

“Goddamnit, will you just stay still please? We’re almost done, bud.”

Almost sprinting to the bathroom, you pushed open the door to find a pile of towels spread across the floor, Javi kneeling over the side of the tub, shirt absolutely soaked as he held the shower handle towards a goofy, wet, golden retriever dancing around in the other end of the tub as he saw you.

“Uhhhhhh, Javi… Why is there a dog in our bathtub?” You stood stunned in the doorway, your presence startling Javi as he spun around, dropping the shower handle, making it spray over the walls, leading the dog to playfully bark and shake as it hopped over the ledge of the tub to greet you.

“No, Bear! Come back here! Fuck. I uh- I can explain, I-” Javi stammered, scrambling to grab the flailing shower head before reaching for the dog to try and wrangle him back into the shower, the rest of his thought cut off by Bear taking one more step towards you before bracing himself for a giant shake, absolutely drenching you as you burst into laughter, wiping your now soaking face with the palms of your hands before reaching down to pet the cheerful dog, wagging his wet tail as he leaned up against your leg.

You couldn’t help but let the smuggest grin spread across your face, now putting the pieces of the puzzle together. “Bear, huh? You come up with that one?” You giggled, crouching down to greet who you now were presuming to be the newest resident of your household, rubbing his hands over his drenched, furry body, squealing as he licked all over your face. “I thought we couldn’t have a dog in the apartment, Jav, and I hate to break it to you, this is definitely a dog… very much in our apartment.”

Javi let out a snort, rolling his eyes at you as he reached over to shut off the water, resting his back against the edge of the tub, propping his arms up over the sides as he braced himself to try and explain his current situation to you. “Well…” he grinned sheepishly as Bear paced back and forth between the two of you, his tail swaying side to side as he dripped puddles across the bathroom floor, “I got into work this morning and the first thing I saw was a fucking dog that Carter and Miller had dropped in my office after Miller found him on his drive in.”

“Which I am assuming is this dog?” You laughed, gesturing towards the giddy Golden Retriever jaunting around the bathroom.

“Yeah, this one. Miller said that he found him on a dirt road. Called animal control and no one had been looking for a dog that looked like him, and that when he called the shelter, they were so full, that if someone didn’t either come to get him or adopt him in the next couple weeks, that, well… they probably would have to… Fuck, Cater is allergic and Miller can’t have dogs at his place, and I- he’s so sweet, and I couldn’t just let him go so-”

“So you bought out the better part of the pet store so he could live here with us?” You grinned, raising an eyebrow at Javi as Bear happily sat himself down in his lap, making Javi grunt at the weight of the dog plopping himself down across his legs.

“I mean… I uh… I-” Javi mumbled, sheepishly looking down at Bear before looking back at you, doing your best to contain your laughter and giggles. “What, Hermosa?” Javi phrased it as a question, even though he already knew the answer- You were never going to let him live this down for the rest of his life.

“And you thought you needed to be worried about me bringing a dog home without asking. Does this mean we have a new member of the Peña family?” You smirked, making your way over to Javi and Bear, squatting down on the soaking bathroom floor next to them, pressing a playful peck onto Javi’s cheek as you gave Bear a big scratch.

“If that’s okay with you.”

“You’re lucky he’s cute, and you’re lucky you’re cute, too. Yes, of course it’s okay with me. Welcome to the family, Bear Peña.”

The two of you smiled at each other as you sat on the bathroom floor, a damp and soggy Bear spread across your laps with the happiest and goofiest grin spread over his face, too. While coming home to find Javi wrestling a stray dog in your tub wasn’t exactly how you pictured welcoming the newest member of your family into your lives, in some strange way, it couldn’t have felt more perfect. Getting to grow and share your life together with Javi was all you could ever really ask for, even if that meant a Monday night, soaking wet from a dog bath gone wrong.

“Okay, well, we should probably dry this goofball off and get his stuff all situated. Poor guy is probably exhausted after all of his adventures today, aren’t ya bud? Do you think we should put the dog bed in our room? I don’t want him to get scared during the night, but I’m not really sure if we should have him up on our bed, ya know?”

As you pushed yourself up to stand, you waited for Javi’s response, only to be greeted by double the amount of big, brown puppy dog eyes now staring back at you as you turned around. Javi still said nothing, a guilty look growing across his and the dog’s, as you let out a deep sigh, wondering how in the world you were going to build up your immunity to another sweet face that made you crumble.

“You already let him on the bed, didn’t you, Jav?”

“.... Maybe.”

“Like I said, the two of you are very lucky you’re cute.”

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