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velvetsainz · 10 months

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summary: [ cl16 x fem!reader ] charles is away in baku and you remind him of what he's missing. part two.

word count: 1.3k

content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp, use of explicit language, phone sex, masturbation, google-translated french (lmao), a dash of fluff, i like em dashes too much

a/n: baby's first smutlet! i've been writing for like twelve years but i've never posted to tumblr, so here's to first times! there'll def be at least a part ii to this, but i'm also hoping to write for other drivers soon(ish). also giant mega thank you to @multiseb21 + @lecrep for your support—y'all have been so incredibly sweet & i am so thankful for you!! anyways, i hope y'all like this! enjoy, loves! xx

“Chérie,” his voice crooned over the line, a soft laugh leaving your lips. “Don’t tease, mon ange—it’s already hard enough being away from you for so long.”

“Weren’t you the one who said he’d be fine just a month ago?,” you retorted, voice low. The cards were in your hands now, and Charles was desperate. He was a nomad lost in the desert and you were his oasis on the horizon, just the sound of your voice enough to slake his thirst.

“Yes, but then you sent me that picture and—” You hear him curse again under his breath, his fist acting as a poor substitute for the velvet heat of your walls. He swore he wasn’t going to let you leave that bed once he got his hands on you again.

Charles wasn’t entirely wrong: you were the biggest fucking tease known to mankind. Earlier that evening you sent him a semi-absentminded photo of you fresh from the shower, steam still obscuring the best parts of the photo with a fresh white towel around your hips and one gathering your hair on top of your head. He’d always had something about you fresh from the shower—every time he’d nearly pounce as soon as you’d pad back into the bedroom from the steamy confines of the bathroom, hair wrapped on top of your head just as it was now. (Part of you thought it was something primal in him: you’d washed away his scent on your skin and he needed to make his territory known again, that horn dog.) Still, he was ever the gentleman and would make the endeavor more than worth your while.

“Yeah, that was pretty bad of me, wasn’t it?,” you ceded with a knowing smirk on your lips as you sat back from your desk, closing your laptop slowly. You’d wanted to get a little more work done after your shower, but the Monégasque wasn’t keen to let sleeping dogs lie and needed to hear your voice for himself.

“So bad, chérie,” he agreed with tone of exasperation, a heavy sigh passing through the phone, “And you’re not even here to help a–”

“That doesn’t mean I can’t help in other ways,” you were quick to remind him, the words coming from your mouth quicker than your shame would force you to bottle them up. Heat was creeping to your cheeks, and you could feel the familiar coil of desire tightening deep in the pit of your belly.

“Are you—?”

“That’s why you called, isn’t it, baby?,” you asked only to get a stifled groan from the other side. “You wanted me to tell you how I’ve been thinking about you all day,” you continued, “how I miss your hands on my hips, your cock so deep—”

“Fucking hell,” Charles practically whines as you push yourself away from the desk now, allowing yourself to relax into the seat of the chair and your hips to ease apart despite every part of you wanting to grind them together to relieve the dull ache that rested between them.

“What would you do if I was there now, Cha?,” you asked softly, hand splayed out over the plush of your thigh, eyes glazing over as you pictured him there with you. You wanted his hands everywhere; you couldn’t decide where you truly needed him most. Fingers curling against that hidden spot in your tight cunt, threaded through your hair and pulling your head back to rest on his shoulder, gripping your thighs so tight they’d leave bruises that he’d fuss over later—it all sounded like heaven compared to the lonely hell of your shared Monte Carlo flat.

“I want to taste you, mon cœur,” he replied shakily as his breath came faster, the sound of him fisting his cock becoming more and more prominent as time passed; he wasn’t going to last long like this, but you both already knew that—it wasn’t the point of this exercise. “I’d have you coming on my tongue, let you taste yourself when I kiss you—putain,” the driver cursed once more as his brow furrowed. He was leaking precum over his ironclad grip and all he wanted was to slide his fingers past your plump lips to feel the wet heat of your tongue take care of the mess.

You let out a tremulous breath over the line, one you hadn’t known you’d been holding onto so tightly until your head started swimming with need. Your hand had drifted from its origin, rubbing lazy circles over the cotton of the panties you’d slipped into after the inciting picture. On your top half was a worn, faded shirt of Charles that you’d taken a liking to as a nightshirt—especially when you were missing him as you were so desperately now.

“Need you in me,” you begged, the emptiness you felt so acutely coming to the forefront of your senses, “You always do such a good job filling me—my fingers don’t do you justice.”

You hear a groan on the other side of the line, the man now sitting on the edge of the bed as he tries to keep himself in check. He wasn’t ready for this to be over so soon; you had him feeling like a teenager again, ready to spill at a moment’s notice. Granted, this wasn't anything new: there's something so intoxicating about you that destroyed whatever semblance of restraint, of control he had over his lust.

“Want you in my mouth, give me something better to do than tease you like this,” to which you received a choked merde, the man hanging on your every word as the hand between your legs abandoned its objective—you could take care of that later. You were too caught in every little sound that passed his plush lips, listening for every little cue his body so willingly gave you.

“Want your hands in my hair, guiding me up and down your cock,” you keened for him on a whine, his breathing heavy and labored. He was running at full speed to the cliff's edge, and you were there watching, waiting in the grass. “Want your cum on my tongue, baby,” you whined.

“Promise not to waste any, minette?,” he grunted, gritting his teeth as you hummed your assurances. “Such a good girl f’me, yes–”

With a strained hiss and a groan he came sloppily over his hand, thankful enough that he wasn’t home in Monaco so he didn’t have to worry about cleaning up the mess he’d made. “Fuck,” he croaked, breathing heavy as he came down from the blinding high your words had catapulted him through. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been taking care of business when duty called, but something about your voice, the thought of you there…it clutched everything into a higher gear.

“Better?,” you asked, sly smile audible to the Ferrari driver; he didn’t need to see you to know the shit-eating, satisfied smile that took over your lips.

With a tired laugh he nodded, slumping back onto the cool rumpled sheets of the hotel bed as he stared absently at the dark ceiling. It was three in the morning in Baku, and he couldn’t sleep—the thoughts your cheeky picture had invited wouldn’t let him.

“Get some rest, tiger,” you teased him, knowing he’d have to be awake in a few short hours. You debated sending him another picture in the morning as motivation, tiding him over until you’d join him later that weekend.

“Que ferais-je sans toi, mon amour?,” he asked, sleep heavy in his voice as he rolled the right way onto the bed and running a hand through his hair. He’d deal with the mess he’d made in the morning along with the flowers he’d send you—he really didn’t know what he’d do without you.

“I guess we’ll never know, hm?,” you replied gently, smile melting into something softer as you fiddled with the gleaming ring on your left hand.

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thetxtdevil · 3 months

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The Bat and the Wolf

Vampire Beomgyu x Werewolf Reader

summary: You just celebrated becoming a full fledged adult wolf. Spending a few nights with Beomgyu causes your wolf to come out.

content: smut, best friends to lovers, vampire/dom gyu, werewolf/sub fem.reader, heat sex, breeding kink, praising, missionary, mention of doggy style, a lot of sweat and blood sucking, let me know if i'm missing anything

word count: 2.7k

running with the wolfs,

in the dead of night, gusty breeze flies through the thick fur of the giant cainines, one tiny vampire bat flutters above them following the pack on their journey. the journey being a sweet meadow, a perfect place to curl up for the night.

the pack of gray wolves start to change, bulky bodies turn into smaller human ones, fur vanishing from their skin. the little bat on top flutters in circles quickly landing on the ground transforming into a man. one female werewolf walks up to the vampire, stopping to look at him.

"a little messy tonight aren't we?" you giggle at the vampire's dried bloody lips.

"yeah i was running late, i had to take a small drink before i lost you" beomgyu says while rubbing his thumb on his lips.

"well, i'm glad you made it" you say as you walk back to your pack.

beomgyu has known you for awhile ever since you were older pup. he's become accustomed to the werewolf world, always intrigued by their nomadic lifestyle. beomgyu walking into your circle of the pack with open arms, he smiles and looks at you. you were being nonchalant but you were grateful for your families acceptance of the vampire.

✥✥✥

you met on a foggy day, the land was so thick with clouds a vampire could go out with the sun out and not get burnt and thats what beomgyu did. recently learning a new power of his, he swooshes through the black forest trees in his bat form. zooming, zig-zag patterns around the tall pines, he soon becomes tired. with his bat claws, he latched onto a branch, looking at the world upside-down until his eyes closed.

pointed ears twitched by the snapping of twigs. beomgyu ignored it until he heard the whimpers of a wolf. gyu opens his little bat eyes, clawing at the branch so he can see right-side up. there it was, the source of noises, a not so fully grown wolf, shiny silver fur tarnished by specks of mud. the head of the wolf was low, sniffing the path, looking up every once in a while obviously trying to find their way. beomgyu studies the wolf, intrigued by the personified movements it made. de-clawing the branch, gyu drops from the tree landing as his vampire self. silently walking towards the lost wolf, snap, gyu winces at the sound as the wolf turns around and growls at him.

"i'm sorry, sorry" gyu raises his hand in surrender.

your wolf stopped, looking at the flinched man. his long lashes brushed his cheeks as he squints, his teeth shown a set of long vampire teeth. your wolf head tilts making your perked ears flop to one side to the other. if this was a feral vampire wouldn’t he already attack me instead of flinching like a dork? you thought to yourself. beomgyu unravels himself from his cautious state looking at the hesitant puppy. he couldn't help himself but to crouch down reaching his hand towards you. even your wolf eyes showed signs of judgment.

"are you lost?" gyu asks "my name is beomgyu, i'm friendly i promise" he smiles barring his sharp fangs to you again.

"can i pet you?" he asks

you moved closer to him, he finally touches the silky fur of yours, satisfied with the softness. you smirk to yourself, finally deciding to change into your human form.

"if only i get to touch your long pretty hair" you say, close to his face, noses barely touching. gyu silently screams and falls on his ass. you laugh at him, standing up and grab his hand to pull the vampire up from the ground. gyu now has gotten a good view of your human form, finding similarities in your eyes and your wolf's eyes.

"unfortunately i am lost, but i'm happy to have a companion" your small smile fills the vampire's non-pumping heart. he nods bashfully and walks with you.

✥✥✥

it's safe to say that you guys became best friends from that day, so your disappointment was valid when your pack decided to have your birthday party during daylight. you pout as your mom goes wild preparing your party.

"mom you know beomgyu can't stand in the sun why did it have to be during the day?"

"y/n this is a very important milestone for your wolf so a lot of your family is coming and they probably don't want to travel back home all night"

today was the day when you celebrate your birthday and your wolf celebrated adulthood. you shake at the fact that you were getting older. even more so for the fact that you're going to start your heats. the horror stories you've heard, when you don't have a partner to help you along through the aching days. you feared the day it would come because you had no one.

even though beomgyu wasn't there to make you laugh and make fun of you in your party hat, you had a good time. later that night, as the party settled and your extended family left, you relaxed by the fire with an empty plate where your cake used to be. you look out in the distance, everything glowed by the crescent moon, surrounded by trees that swayed by a comforting wind. then you spotted something, a figure of the night. you look over to your mom and tell her that you’re gone for the night.

you walk up to the shadowy figure with a small smile knowing who it is. finally arriving at the start of the forest, you look behind a tree. no was there, maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. am i missing gyu that much? suddenly your feel a shocking poke on your sides making you jump. turning around you see the toothy grin of the handsome vampire.

"don't scare me like that" you say while you hit him.

"sorry, but you're too easy" gyu says rubbing the spot you hit him "i was thinking of taking the birthday girl to the old cabin by the algae lake since i couldn't be with you today."

you smile, agreeing with his plans, but you had a gut feeling that you should stray far. beomgyu pouts at your hesitation, there was no way you could say no to his cute pout. you roll your eyes saying "yes" and he drags you through the woods. the cabin was like your guys' grownup version of a tree house. the wooden shelter was run down, mold and insect infested when you first found it on your hikes. the two of you decided to make it your fixer-upper making it yours.

arriving to the algae lake, you were in awe to see already lit tiki torches that lead the way to the cabin's entrance. beomgyu held your hand like you were a princess leading you to the cabin. inside was a lit up fireplace and a nest of blankets. you squeak at the sight instantly diving into the plush softness. gyu gets your attention by shaking bags of your favorite chips, you look over as he shows you a table full of your favorite snacks.

wow i really am getting the princess treatment

✥✥✥

you wake up the next morning with a pounding headache, you're not feeling good. rubbing your eyes you look over to gyu on your shared bed. he was reading in the dark seeming relaxed. your faint illness made you want physical touch, you snake your hand for gyu's hand and he accepts it. cuddled up, you were grateful for his cold temperature it felt nice against your burning one.

after a while you decided that it would be best to get ready for the day. face washed, fully clothed, with a coffee in your hand you sat on a chair on the cabin's porch enjoying the musky scent of wood. closing your eyes, you begin to daydream, what would vampire/werewolf mixed children look like? more specifically what they would look like with gyu's facial features. maybe one would have his handsome round features adorned with his signature wolf-cut matching your wolf side and the other one would have your plush cheeks that would scrunch up their eyes hiding their red irises.

fantasy cut short when you got a whiff of the vampire's rose scent. you look through the screen door of the cabin to see beomgyu lurking trying to stay out of the sun's rays. you smile at the clingy man, looking down at you empty mug, maybe it's time to go back inside.

back inside of the cabin, you sit on the couch having music playing in the background. gyu's head laying on your lap, you watch him as he talked, watching his prominent adams apple move, and his lips curving into a smile when he was recalling a story about his clan. you played with his hands noting every bulging vein and how long his fingers were. has his hands always looked this enticing? before you knew it the sun faded away causing the house to get cold. oh how badly to wanted to get closer to the vampire. your ill feeling hasn't lightened up, in fact, it has gotten worse. you have a burning sensation in your throat, even though you felt like you should lay down you also felt restless. you tell gyu that you were going to take a shower hoping it will make you feel better. walking away, the vampire stares lasers into you. he knew something was off, he could smell you so clearly.

✥✥✥

heat rushes through your body, thighs rubbing together, your cunt aching, breasts hurt. you moan yourself out of sleep, launching your back off the bed. you sat there drenched in sweat, you whimper at the sensation, splaying your hand on beomgyu's side of the bed looking for the vampire. gyu was gone and worry bubbles up in your mind. you felt lonely, even though you have the power and knowlege to easily get out of the woods, you don't think you were in the right mindset for that right now.

light sounds of footsteps come closer showing gyu with a big bottle of filtered water.

"hey, y/n you were whining and twisting a lot in your sleep, is something wrong?"

you aggressively tore the bottle out of his hands, thanking him, and then gulping it down in one breathe. the vampire lays on his side next to you watching you in worry. still thankful for his kindness you grab his face and smash your lips against his. beomgyu had no complaints, he honestly been wanting to do this, however he never thought you'd be in this condition. beomgyu deepens the kiss as you went ahead and straddle his hips. sloppily making out, you didn't realize that your soaked cunt was grinding on him so hard there was a wet spot forming on his trousers.

you part yourself from him "sorry i-" gyu's big rosewood orbs stares at you "i think i'm in heat..."

gyu knowing somethings since being friends with you, he understands what you mean by being "in heat." thinking of all those times your werewolf brothers would brag about their bitch in heat. he never understood the pleasure that came from a wolf to be so needy and hot until he looks at you in this moment. you were always beautiful to beomgyu but now you were glistening in sweat, as your hair sticked on your face making curl designs, framing your scrunch up eyebrows above your big round eyes. your boobs looked perkier than usual, and the way your legs straddled him, and your scent. your scent was so strong it made his eye roll into his head making gyu think you were made for him.

"i'll give you what you need only if you let me have what i need..." beomgyu smirks.

"anything PLEASE i neeeeed you" you've become needier and needier by the second, humping gyu without a care.

the vampire lays you down, stripping you away from your clothes "i didn't specify what i needed" he bends down to your ear "i'd like to feed from you"

you shiver from his breathe brushing against your skin and aggressively nod.

"will you agree to anything i say?" the vampire chuckles.

you moan at the feeling of his knee slightly against your cunt. you nod furiously, beomgyu's eyes widen when you wrap your hands around his head just to push his face to your neck. the vampire was stunned by your willingness, all those times he has asked to sink his teeth into you, you'd flee. round nose grazing the column of your sweaty neck, gyu shivered at how vulnerable you were right now.

a few licks here and there, he stretches his mouth open. you were already a whining mess, but right as you felt beomgyu's sharp fangs dig into your flesh you screamed in pleasure. you didn't know that the pain from a bloodsucking would balance the pain of your heat. while engulfing your blood, gyu massages your sore boobs causing you to lift your hips into him.

"gyu just breed me already"

beomgyu retracts his fangs from you, stripping off his sweats. thinking to himself that he's never really considered you a domestic type but he shivered at the thought of you carrying his baby wolfbats. freeing his cock, he watches you eyes locked, you spread your legs further apart. your pussy lips shining from a great amount of juices, your hole clenching around nothing welcoming anything to be stuffed into you. gyu licks his lips, pumping his dick a few times before inserting himself into you.

it felt like fireworks were going off in your heated mind "f-feels s'good"

clawing your long nails into beomgyu's lower back to have him go deeper inside you. the vampire grunts at how amazing your cunt feels around him, he felt like your horny mind was spreading onto him. he couldn't get enough of the arousing sensations of your gummy walls, the sounds of your moans and bodies slapping against one another. kissing your shoulder a few times he gives into your scent again biting and sucking your shoulder. the pain and pleasure fuels you, the heat has taken over your vision and awareness. all you know that you were feeling good being filled up.

"cum inside"

beomgyu licking the blood off your shoulder, he moves his hand to your clit rubbing it, determined to have you cum with him. millions of pleasurable "yes" fly out of your mouth. your back arched as you came, in return having gyu letting his seed fill you up. your back plops back into the bed, laying there breathless. you look into his red eyes and his long hair sticking to his sweaty skin. gyu witnesses your simple state change as your pupils dilated and breathing from shallow to a fast rate along with hearing your heart pounding so fast he thought you may explode.

"need you again"

"alright, but i'm going to have you turn over this time"

you kneel up to get into beomgyu's face, kiss and smirk at him before you twist your body bending down. ass in gyu's face you wiggle it in front of him. if vampires could die you would be his cause of death.

✥✥✥

after three days of no-stop sex, your wolf was finally satisfied with the full load you had in your belly. you laid there in the messy bed desperately in need for a wash with a small smile on your face and rubbing your tummy. a shirtless vampire, showing off his faded back scratches, enters the room smiling at your contentment,

"you need a shower or bath or something... you look like shit"

your best friend always knew what to say. you lift your torso up and look at him with your infamous puppy eyes, "can you help me, i don't think my legs will allow me to get up"

beomgyu chuckles as he walks towards, kneeling in front of you between your legs. massaging the weak limbs, he gives you sweet pecks on the lips. your fingers brush his long hair to expose more of his face,

"thank you for a great birthday"

✤✣✤

check out my vampire diaries -> link

A nuisances,

TxT's Devil

taglist: @inkigayocamman, @naoristerling

#txt devil #txt imagines #txt hard thoughts #txt hard hours #txt smut #txt x reader #txt x you #txt x y/n #vampire txt #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu smut #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #vampire beomgyu

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allfearstofallto · 6 months

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Always Under Skin, Even When it Gets Removed

Yandere! Childe x Reader

Part of {Mai Playlist}

Childe was a nuisance. Persistent. A vermin. Childe was a pest. Like an infestation of roaches, you could do everything in your power to get rid of him, but he'd still be somewhere nearby. Determination was one of his strongest traits, and he was determined to ruin you.

Being married to him was never in your cards and if you could've never met him at all, you would've been happy. Yet for almost a year, you were forced to be his doting wife. Only managing to steal yourself away after months of planning and a few close calls. The taste of free air, even if it was the air of Snezhnaya, was the best thing on your tongue, better than even your favorite food cooked to perfection.

You didn't think you'd live the life of a nomad, but it seemed easier. Paranoia was second nature to you now, and staying in one place seemed dangerous. He could be anywhere, around any corner, close by, but not showing himself until he knew it would fuck you over. Was living life on the road considered freedom? You didn't know, but anything would be better than another day with Childe.

“How far will this take me?” You held up a good ring to a carriage driver, making sure to keep your face covered beneath your hood. You took a lot when you left, mostly jewelry, things that were small and expensive.

He eyes the ring over before dropping it back into the palm of your hand, “It'll get you pretty far, but where are you even trying to go?”

“Anywhere is fine,” you said quickly.

The man helped you up into the back of his wagon, where he kept his wares. Mostly agricultural things, fresh produce and hay. It wasn't the best place you'd ridden before, but it was far from being the worst.

You understood why people were weary of you. You weren't making much of an effort to not come off as strange, but you weren't out to make friends. The wagon swayed as the sun began to set over the horizon, he didn't tell you how long he'd be driving and quite honestly, you didn't care. At the next port, you'd stow yourself away onto some other vehicle, never stopping, not even for a breath.

You let your head rest back against the hard wooden wall, you let your arms fall to your side, you let the movement of the wagon sway you to sleep. Morning would come and you'd be awoken by the well-known feeling of the carriage lurching to a stop and sunlight beaming through the cracks in the wall. Outside sounded like a bustling city, although you didn't know where, quite honestly it didn't matter.

“It's back here, sir,” you heard the voice of the carriage driver say as you watched shadows fall over the doorway. You can recognize Childe. Recognize his smell, his voice, a strand of his hair if you were to find one, and most importantly, you could recognize his footsteps. Slow, drawn out, and precise. Your blood went cold, noticing that the driver wasn't walking alone.

The door was slammed open and before you could even make a break for it, cold metal was pressed to your neck. Sharp enough to slice your head right off your body if you made any sudden moves, you could already feel the steel biting into your skin.

“Already running away again?” You didn't even want to look at him, but he used the tip of his blade to tilt your head up. Still wearing a smile as he looked down upon you, “I will admit, I'm proud of you. You managed to stay away longer than I expected,” the blade pushed a lot harder into your neck, “I missed you, my angel.”

You could say nothing as he took you by the hand, pulling you from the cart and onto the ground. You weren't treated gently, not when he was angry. His anger was a menace to deal with. The bigger the smile, the words his rage, and he looked practically elated to see you.

“You took everything, but this,” he tossed your wedding band down, it fell onto your body and landed on your thighs. The ring was warm, like he'd been clutching it in his hand. Knowing him, he probably hadn't let it go since he discovered you were gone.

Without much of an argument, you slipped the ring back on your finger. The small band felt more like a shackle, than something meant to adorn your body. With it, your taste of delicious, true freedom was ripped from your mouth almost as quickly as you'd gotten it. But you'd never get to taste it again.

Childe was all smiles and laughter as he helped you into his own carriage. That smile not reaching his dead, hollow eyes. The ride to Snezhnaya would be a long one, you wonder how long he could contain his anger till then?

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #genshin childe x reader

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downbadf0rficppl · 8 months

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sweater weather

Nomad!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: While caught out in a snowstorm while on a mission, you resort to desperate measures to keep warm.

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Canon violence, slightly injured reader, smut, manhandling, soft sex, facefucking

Repost

The mission was long. And hard. And all you wanted now was a nice, long nap.

Steve had brought up this particular mission while you two were hiding in Manila. You always preferred the warmer destinations, even when you worked for SHIELD.

It was a simple mission - too simple in hindsight - the grab-the-file-and-get-out type.

"It's Austria," you sighed, again with the cold. "I know, sweets, but it's an ex-Hydra base. We gotta check it out, make sure they don't have anything they shouldn't."

You nodded, "When do we leave?"

"Wheels up in an hour."

When you landed in Austria, your mood soured quickly. There was a foot of snow surrounding the town, and you trudged through the snow to get to the safehouse - a mile away from the nearest town. You were staking out the safe house when the entire town lost power. No lights, no heating, no appliances. It was going to be a rough couple of days.

You bundled yourself in a coat and blankets while you and Steve went over what you knew. The old Hydra base had been abandoned for a while, but it was one of the few that hadn't been on SHIELD's radar due to the lack of activity in the area. It seemed that they had missed something. It seemed very active now.

You spent the first few days making sure no one suspected you were doing anything suspicious. You stocked up on firewood - making sure you would have enough, even if you ended up snowed in for a couple of days. You tried to get out to some shops, but with the three inches of snow in the local town, no shops were open. You hoped that there was some long-life food still left in the safe house.

When you set out, you silently prayed that the power would come back on by the time you had finished dealing with the agents in the bunker. You also thanked Tony for putting a heater in your suit as part of one of his routine upgrades. You weren't freezing your ass off as you broke into the base.

The bunker itself was powered by some self-generating form of energy - no doubt developed as a result of Loki's scepter in the hands of Baron Von Strucker. The bunker was still working at peak capacity when you and Steve waltzed in the building, guns a-blazing, looking for any signs they were planning something big.

The bunker clearly had been expecting you, launching a full assault on you as soon as you guys walked in. Agents flew left, right, and centre, throwing kicks and punches. The odd bullet was fired at your heads. They were good. But you were much better. You dodged each blow, retaliating with one much harder. They may have had power but it was amateur. You were a battle-hardened professional.

One guy was lucky. He took a baton to your ribcage while you were preoccupied with two other guys. Clearly, he hadn't learned to play fair. You threw the other two guys off you, kicking your assailant into the wall. A nasty crack was the end of him.

You left the bunker exhausted, gripping a nasty bruise that was forming over your ribs. Steve wrapped an arm around you, carrying your weight as you hobbled from the bunker. He abandoned the idea quickly, your height difference making the maneuver awkward. Instead, he wrapped his arms under your thighs, scooping you up bridal style.

You nuzzled into his chest, seeking out his warmth as the snow beat down upon you both. Steve was like a human furnace, his heat radiating through you, keeping you warm even in the hostile temperatures you found yourself in. He smiled down at you, gripping you tighter into his body as you retreated into the trees.

It was about 12 miles from the bunker to the safe house and Steve knew he had to get you both there before the blizzard really hit. There he could check your ribs for the extent of the damage. He prayed that the damage wasn't bad, guilt overtaking his mind. A few seconds of preoccupation on his part led to you being injured. Steve felt terrible.

He was also on high alert. There was no exfil team. They weren't Avengers anymore. They were on their own out here - even Nat wouldn't be able to get here in time if they were attacked.

The trudge through the snow was terrible. Frost covered your hair and his beard, and the chills were racking through your body with more frequency. The snow was seeping through your tactical gear, and given that night was fast falling around them, Steve picked up the pace.

More than once, you offered to walk alongside him, saying that you'd both be faster if you could run, but then an odd step would jolt your body and the pained gasp that would leave your lips was an answer enough.

By the time you reached the house, you had fallen asleep in Steve's arms. He kicked the door open with his toe - the key being a biometric scan of his eye.

You woke up as he sat you down gently on the edge of the sofa.

"Welcome back to the land of the living sleeping beauty." He chuckled as you threw your boot at his head. He caught it easily.

You almost swooned. Sometimes, you thought Steve showed off just to get a reaction out of you. You didn't mind - it was hot.

Steve shut the door with a click, kicking off his shoes by the door. You shivered. Somehow it was colder inside the house than outside. Steve grabbed your bag, throwing a pair of soft clean clothes in your direction, before grabbing some firewood and getting a fire started.

You limped into the bathroom, the coldness making your bones ache. You made quick work of your suit - throwing it into the bathtub, before toweling yourself dry. The wetness of the suit had chaffed at your skin, and the threadbare towel was doing nothing to help the soreness of your skin, but a little itchiness was nothing compared to the hell that would be a cold. Especially since you had no idea when you were getting out of here.

"The power's still out!" Steve called from outside the bathroom. You could tell he was leaning on the door frame, ever the gentleman, even in sub-freezing temperatures.

"Yeah, no shit sherlock." You mumble under your breath as you open the door.

Steve smirked, "I caught that." You gave him a sarcastic smile back. He passed you to go dry off, "No hot water, so I dumped my suit in the tub to dry." You said, leaning on the door frame to take in the picture in front of you.

Steve's usually prim and proper appearance was dishevelled, hair run through multiple times. His suit was half-unzipped, toned chest visible under the confines of the tight fabric. A spattering of hair grew on his chest - the result of multiple back-to-back missions. And, of course, being an internationally-wanted fugitive.

He gave you a nod of confirmation, before shutting the door. You turned around to be hit by a wave of warmth. In the time it took you to pull the skin-tight tac suit off your body - which, let's be honest, took quite a while seeing as it was soaked - Steve had managed to get a fire going.

You huddled close to the fire, pulling your legs into your chest and tucking your face into your knees. You stayed there while Steve stirred in the bathroom - the occasional grunt as he bumped into the things making you giggle.

You shuffled closer to the fire, trying to steal every ounce of warmth to warm your frigid body.

"Careful, doll, you might burn yourself." You looked up at him and smiled, reaching for him as he walked towards you. He sat behind you, arms wrapped tightly around your shoulders. You relaxed into his arms. This was nice. You needed to do this more.

He ran his fingers over your ribs, goosebumps following in his path. You winced slightly as he applied pressure. "Not broken." He whispered, hot breath ghosting over your ear. You shivered lightly.

Steve pulled you into a chair, before retrieving the first aid kit. He sat you down, before sinking to his knees in front of you. You clenched your thighs slightly, the action pushing your mind to filth. If Steve noticed, he said nothing. He rolled up your sleeves and your trousers, revealing a plethora of small cuts and bruises that littered your body. Steve made quick work of treating your superficial wounds, smiling sympathetically when you winced at the sting of antiseptic against the cuts.

He snuck a hand under your shirt, locking eyes with you in a silent request for permission. You pulled up your shirt, revealing the large bruise over your ribs. There was a red mark in the centre of the bruise where the pole had hit you. Steve gently wiped it with an alcohol wipe, before applying Arnica cream to the bruise. You watched him tenderly patch you up.

"I'm sorry." His words surprise you.

"What?"

"I should have been there. To protect you."

You scoffed, "In case it slipped your memory, you were preoccupied. It's not your fault."

He nodded silently, rolling your shirt back down. He started to pack up the kit, but you grabbed his arm, dragging him back to sit where you had been sat moments before.

"You're hurt too, Captain," you said, sinking to your knees in front of him in the same way he had. The effect you had on him was far more visible. His face blushed a bright red, and you smiled coyly.

You bandaged up the graze on his leg, hands lingering longer than they needed to. You pushed yourself off the floor and occupied yourself with the knots in his shoulders. The adrenaline made both your bodies tense, but while you had had the time to relax in Steve's arms, he hadn't had that same luxury.

You ran your fingertips over his shoulders, kneading the particularly tight parts. Steve let out a low groan in appreciation, resting his forehead on your stomach. The sound sent electricity through your body, heat pooling at the bottom of your stomach.

Steve's hands came around to rest on your thighs, pulling you closer into his body like he couldn't bear to be apart from you for even a moment.

You leaned to whisper into his hair, "It's not your fault, Steve." His hold on you only became tighter.

You stood like that for a while, your arms running up and down Steve's back while he convinced himself that you were fine.

He walked out back to grab more firewood, promising he'd be back in a few seconds. You smiled to yourself, fingers ghosting over your lips. The thought of kissing Steve was overwhelming, but you didn't want to push him when you weren't sure of exactly how he felt.

You had a pretty good idea though.

Ever since you had joined the Avengers, you had been close. But with the multiple near-end-of-the-world experiences, it never seemed like the right time to explore those feelings. Steve had always been affectionate, keeping close to you, both in public and private. He had bought you flowers regularly when you lived in New York, always remembered your birthday, protected you when Hydra agents and internet trolls attacked you. In return, you had stood by him in every fight that you could - you always had his back. He could count on that. When the dispute over the Sokovia accords had happened, you agreed with Steve - even if that meant you lost some close friends. In the years that followed, you had fought countless enemies side-by-side. Bucky sometimes joined you, Sam too. But for the most part, you two had become almost intimately acquainted.

You crept towards the kitchen, rifling through the cabinets for any long-life food that might have been kept there. You pulled a can out of the cupboard. Baked Beans. You pulled another can out of the cupboard. Baked Beans. And another. And another. And another. All beans.

Buried at the back of the cupboard was a single tin of Chicken Noodle Soup that was so out of date, the mold in it had probably bred a new organism. Baked beans it was then.

You heated the beans up in a pan, placing them over the roaring fire to warm them up. You huddled up to the fire again, chills wracking through your body, keeping the pan over the fire all the while. After a while, with the tomato sauce bubbling slightly, you pulled the pan away from the heat and stood up to serve it into the two cracked bowls that were left in the safe house. Tony had done a good job at emptying the safe houses after the end of the Avengers.

Your hands shook as you evenly distributed the beans. You could hardly bear to be this far away from the fire. You needed more layers, but your coat and your tac suit were soaked through, meaning you had nothing else to wear.

Your hands shook violently again as another shiver ripped through you. You tucked your hands under your armpits and raised your shoulders to cover your ears.

From the corner of your eye, you spotted something fuzzy draped on the edge of the sofa. Steve's jumper. He's been wearing it when he arrived in Austria but claimed that it was far too thick for him - immediately discarding it when you had entered the safe house. You didn't know how it had slipped your mind earlier.

You slipped it on - Steve hadn't lied. It was incredibly thick and cozy. And also quite large, dwarfing your figure, making you feel safe and warmed. You pushed up the sleeves and carried the bowls to the floor in front of the fire.

You noticed an extra pair of Steve's socks tucked into the front of his backpack. You quickly stole them, slipping them onto your feet. You were grateful that Steve was an over-packer.

You crouched back in front of the fire, pulling the jumper over your knees, balancing your bowl on your kneecaps.

You heard Steve before you saw him. He was carrying a pile of firewood in his arms and grumbling about how 'the stupid snow got in his boots and now his socks are wet'. You giggled.

"Glad you find my torment funny, sweets." He said, his eyes still trained on the wood in his eyes, "How would you feel if I got trench foot, and was benched for-" He stopped abruptly.

You looked up at him. His gaze was trained on your body, eyes darkening by the second.

"You shouldn't have done that, sweets."

Your face breaks into uncertainty. Maybe you had completely misread the situation. Maybe Steve only wanted to be friends.

The way he grabbed your face, though, told you differently.

He stooped low to cradle your face in his hands. He placed small kisses all over your face, pecking you like a bird would its food.

"You're mine." He whispered between each one. The declaration made heat pool in your stomach and you couldn't help but laugh. You grabbed his face with your hands, and pressed your lips to his, gently at first. Steve ran his tongue against your lips, begging to be let in.

You moaned as his tongue explored each and every part of your mouth. You could feel him getting harder every second that passed and that only spurred you on.

"Steve," his name fell from your lips like a prayer, "please."

He picked you up and you let out a soft gasp.

"You like that, sweetheart?"

You nodded, words cast from your mind. He chuckled, lust colouring his tone as he shuffled you in his arms.

"Makes me feel safe." You whispered, nestling your head into his shoulder. "Like it when you carry me."

He smiled and laid you on the sofa gently. He pressed deep and sensual kisses on your lips, large and warm hands caressing your body.

You arched your back as he ran a knuckle over your nipple. You were hopelessly horny, begging for friction.

"Tell me what you want, baby."

"You. Only you." You whimpered.

"Where do you want me?"

"Everywhere. Please, Steve." You were begging. Steve's eyes lit up.

"Want me to love you, pretty baby?" Steve said, dragging his fingers up your sides.

"Steve, please!" You were close to tears.

He pulled your panties down, fingers slipping in between your wet folds.

"Fuck, darling, you're making a mess." You shuddered, moans spilling out from your lips. He pulls his trousers down, dick curling into his stomach.

"You ready, sweetheart?"

You nodded in response.

"Good." He slid into you gently, your walls stretching to accommodate him. He groaned, head tossed back in pleasure.

He was bigger than you had thought - you grabbed his bicep as he brushed your g-spot.

“S’big Stevie." You whimpered, "M’all full.”

"Yeah baby? You like that?" His hands came to rest on the bulge in your stomach.

The pleasure exploded like a million fireworks in your stomach. He started moving, setting a brutal pace, pushing in and out of you. His cock brushed your g-spot with every thrust, and soon enough you were seeing stars.

"Love it, Stevie! Please don't stop!" He drilled into you, muttering sweet praises.

The coil in your stomach tightened with each thrust. “M’not gonna last.” you whimpered softly.

“S’okay baby." He praised, "Come for me, pretty girl."

You came with a silent cry, shuddering as a wave of arousal washed over you. Steve rode out your orgasm with you, before pulling out. He stood up to head to the bathroom, but you grabbed his hand and pulled him down onto the sofa. You sank to your knees in front of him, again, and licked a stripe from the base to the tip of his cock.

"You don't have to do this."

"I want to."

You placed a kiss on the tip of his cock before taking it in your mouth and sucking on it. You wrapped your right hand around the base of his cock and used the other to massage his balls. Steve drew a sharp breath in above you. You wrapped his hand around your hair, giving him permission to fuck your face. He grabbed your hair tightly and fucked up into your face, choking you with the brutal pace that he set.

"Oh, God, I'm gonna cum," Steve said, slightly relaxing his pace as he moved to pull out. You pushed your face further onto his cock.

Ropes of his cum coated the back of your throat as he came with moans of your name. Your eyes welled up as your throat filled with his seed. You swallowed it, much to Steve's surprise. He pulls you into his lap, before carrying you to the bathroom to clean you up.

You settle on the sofa in his lap, kissing lightly over and over again.

You turn your head to the fire. "Shit."

"What?" Steve looked at you in concern.

"The food. S'gone cold."

He burst into laughter, resting his forehead on your shoulder. He placed a small kiss on your shoulder. You could get used to this.

fin.

buy me a coffee

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x plus size reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers reader insert #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x you #no y/n

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darsynia · 4 months

Text

New (Nomad Steve/Nurse!Reader)

MCU MASTERLIST | STEVE ROGERS MASTERLIST | Ro Roll

Summary: As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he met you.

Word Count/Warnings: 2,400 | None

As 1/7 of my Birthday fics for @ronearoundblindly, NEw is a first kiss hurt/comfort fic about writing your own happy endings. It's a hugely busy week for you and there's no pressure to respond right now, they'll all be here when you have time!

Excerpt:

Lately it feels like exhaustion is your religion. Stay up way too late, stumble home confused and euphoric and try to will yourself to sleep, then wake up and perform miracles to get yourself back to the hospital for your shift. You’ve always been a night owl, but your shift supervisor practically considers you the ward’s brand ambassador, and to keep the peace, you agreed to stay on the day shift. You’d gotten the schedule down to a science, right up until a tall, gorgeous complication started to jog at the track after hours.

The name he’d given feels fake, but nothing else about him does, and you know all about needing to distance yourself from the horrible things you’ve seen at work. You suspect he was a soldier until he got out, and after that probably a firefighter, but you’ve never asked. Mostly, you just try to keep up with him. The sum total of the words you’ve spoken to each other probably wouldn’t make for a single meet-cute in a romance novel, but they feel consequential enough to you.

NEW

It takes Steve a painful amount of time to adjust to hiding.

It isn’t just that he’s recognizable, it’s that he’s always stood out, always. As a small baby he’d been gasped over by strangers, as a sickly child he’d see concern and aversion in their eyes, and once he’d grown into a scrawny adult, those reactions had just intensified.

Some accused him of making himself sick to avoid the war, as though he could have secretly known it was coming and starved himself into stunted growth just in case. For some, it didn’t matter what he looked like-- any man who wasn’t at war was fair game for ridicule. Even those who didn’t care either way found his presence unnerving simply because men his age were scarce. He reminded them of the people they missed, the people who didn’t have the ‘protection’ of being physically unable to join up.

If his life was a narrative, he’d be the best protagonist he could be.

Even so, there was a special kind of hell in wanting so desperately to fight for justice and be told how lucky you were to be disallowed. Back then, it had been important to him not to hide. There were certainly others in the same boat as he was, men who needed groceries, to watch the news in the theater, to have a walk in the fresh air. So he went out anyway. He was the example, the target, the archetype.

Once he had the serum, hiding meant all the hard work by Doctor Erskine and Howard Stark would be for nothing, so he didn’t. Even in tights.

The symbolism was even stronger when he came out of the ice. Now, people look to him as a lodestar meant to bring them all back to decency and safety, and he wants to, but with action, not iconography, no matter how potent.

That hadn’t been enough, and now they’re here.

“You’ve been tying your shoes for five minutes, man. You okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. Thanks, Sam.” Steve finishes up quickly and straightens. “Daydreaming, I guess.”

Sam leans over and looks out through the thin rectangle of night sky visible through the thick curtains. “At this point I think you can just call it dreaming. Stay safe out there.”

Steve watches Sam head off into the kitchen before he slips out of the apartment door and locks it behind him. He and Sam keep nocturnal schedules, but Natasha’s expert-level camouflage skills have netted her a day job that keeps them all afloat. Their plan of moving from community to community taking seasonal jobs has worked well so far.

This is the most ‘domestic’ of their locations to date; they’re spending the lead-up to Christmas in a small city in the midwest full of people who know how to keep their heads down and get things done. No one’s expecting a trio of superheroes to settle in a satellite town whose main attraction is a vintage bowling alley, but there are other calculations to consider. People make eye contact here. They bring their real selves to the conversation, and Steve’s been struggling with some real guilt about that.

As soon as two weeks ago he’d have said that keeping to himself was the easiest part of his life right now… but that was before he’d met you.

As it has for the past week, your heart starts racing when you get close to the track. The problem is, you were run ragged today, and you feel just like the mermaid from the original fairy tale. Every single step is like knives stabbing the balls of your feet, and your arches are singing ‘fuck you’ so loudly you expect Ursula to show up any minute.

You stop on the bench right inside the gate to let the burning pain subside a bit. The last thing you want is for your burly new crush to think you’re a lightweight, not now that the months of forcing yourself to run after work have paid off so nicely with… well, him.

Besides Frank, the school’s night security officer and all-around nicest tough-guy in town, there isn’t anyone else visible on the brightly-lit track. You take the opportunity to cross your ankle over your knee and reach for your shoe in preparation to swap it with the sneakers in your bag. These are a new pair, and you’d planned on wearing them every few days to break them in. As soon as you get your heel off you understand just how much you screwed up by not bringing the others in to swap into once you realized how go-go-go your day would be. The swelling is bad, and the beginnings of blisters sting in various places. There’s no way in hell you can jog today, and walking home is going to be excruciating. It’s a god-damned miracle you have the day off tomorrow.

“I don’t know what I was thinking,” you mutter under your breath. The John F. Kennedy High School campus is the same distance from the bus stop as your apartment is, but in the opposite direction. Your feet had already been screaming, why hadn’t you gone home instead?”

“Thought you weren’t coming!”

Your crush’s voice cuts through the late November chill, warming your heart. You look up and see him crossing from under the bleachers, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie. He’s far enough away that you let yourself sigh, half in addlepated pleasure in seeing him, half in utter frustration at yourself. He’s the reason you came, of course. You’d walk across fire to spend time with this guy, and by the time you head home, that’s definitely what it’ll feel like.

“Sorry, long day,” you tell him once he’s close enough.

Hurrying, you yank off your second shoe and nearly swallow your tongue from the pain. Tears stand in your eyes, exacerbated by the surprise when you look up and your new friend is right there, almost like he'd teleported over. He’s crouched in front of you, and there’s nowhere to hide from his concerned scrutiny.

He confirms your assessment of ex-military by the professional once-over he’s doing, even more so when he takes your shoe out of your weary hand and tests the bend of its sole with a practiced hand.

“Don’t say it--”

“These are not very good shoes,” he pronounces. With a move as graceful as a ballet dancer, he shifts onto the bench beside you, still examining the shoe. You snag it from his hand and tuck it into your backpack with its mate, pulling out your tennis shoes before zipping back up.

There’s no chance you’ll be able to put them on, but, one thing at a time.

“You’re right. I didn’t expect to be the runner on the ward today, but we were shorthanded.” You wince at your feet, both of which are looking decidedly puffy. Shit, will either pair of shoes fit, at this point? “There’s a ‘best foot forward’ joke I could be making about hoping you’d be here running tonight, but honestly, I’m too wiped out to make it.” You look over as you finish speaking and catch his pleased reaction. It’s understated, but it’s there, enough to make you brave. “I have the day off tomorrow, maybe I can give you a twelve hour rain check? I bet you’re even more handsome in sunlight.”

To your dismay, his face falls and he looks down. You turn your head away, unwilling to see the evidence of just how badly you’d gauged this. He’s very clearly not interested.

“Or not! ‘Not’ is also okay, sorry about that, I--”

The words dissolve on your tongue at the gentle touch of his knuckle on your chin, turning your face back toward his in the time-honored tradition of romantic male leads.

“Please don’t-- Running with you has been-- Believe me, during the day-- I would like to, I just can’t.” Disappointment is etched across his handsome features, but more than that, you can see the way his mind is racing just like yours had just seconds ago. The man looks like he’s desperate to rewind to a moment that doesn’t feel like this.

There’s a remedy to that, and after a day of doing your best to fix everything and everyone around you, it feels like the most natural thing in the world to surge up and touch your lips to his.

You meant to pull back right away, mirroring that thing where a couple knows each other so well that gentle brush is all that’s needed-- but your midnight warrior is still in the middle of the book. His large hand shifts to cup your cheek, holding you still for his head tip where he deepens the kiss and scrambles your brain. It’s impulsive, desperate, and honest. You grab at his clothing, needing to believe this is real, even as the two of you follow kisses with more kisses like you’re saying goodbye in an airport.

“Doesn’t look much like you’re runnin’!” the security guard calls out, his words so distant they almost don’t register at first.

That ends things abruptly, but the two of you don’t move much farther apart than a few inches, his hand still on your face, yours with a handful of his sweatshirt, right over his heart.

“Textbook,” you whisper, flattening your hand out to smooth over his chest. It’s solid muscle under there.

“Oh?” he asks, pulling his hand away swiftly like he’d forgotten how to be a gentleman in his eagerness to touch you. It’s charming as hell.

“This whole operation, it’s right out of the romance novel guidebook,” you praise. “I ought to look for cameras.” A shadow crosses his face, and you suddenly put the pieces together. “Shit, you’re hiding from something, aren’t you? That’s why you freaked out about coming here in the daytime.”

He’s already standing, but instead of stalking away from you, he’s looking around the track, turning in a circle of deep concentration. He’s looking for cameras, but not in a joking way, not as part of a bit.

“The school district would rather spend the money on Frank than cameras, if that’s what you’re looking for,” you murmur, pushing your voice into steadiness out of sheer determination. “The city contributes. It’s been so much safer when everyone who wants a night walk comes here, but there are fewer of us out in the winter months.” The fall chill is actually helping with the pain in your feet, so that's something.

Your mysterious crush is facing you again, apparently satisfied that the two of you aren't being watched by anything more permanent than good old Frank. “I’m sorry,” he says. The words have a horrid finality to them, but you’re focused on his eyebrows. They’re not on board with the rest of his body language. They’re beseeching, rather than resolute, hopeful rather than harsh.

You have one chance to get this right.

“There are some things I love about my coworkers, and let’s be real, a lot of things I don’t-- but do you want to know the thing I like least about working in a hospital?”

Your whole body is practically vibrating with adrenaline, and you realize this is your opportunity to shove on your shoes. As you do that, you refuse to look up at him. The goal is to bring his critical thinking skills back from ‘fight or flight’ mode. Then maybe you can get the two of you on the same page again.

It takes over a minute, but he lets out a long breath and sits down beside you. “Tell me."

“They’re terrible gossips,” you say, looking right at him. He’s not allowed to make the obvious (ruinous, new-relationship-wrecking) conclusion about what you’re saying, not without having to look you in the eye while he does it. “I can’t stand that shit. That’s why they send me on the errands. I’ve got everyone trained to stop talking when I walk by, at this point.”

His relief is visible. “I can respect that.”

“Good.” You set both feet on the ground and decide to test things out by standing. If you’re wobbly, you feel certain he’ll reach out and catch you. “Tomorrow night?”

“Wait,” he says, the picture of confusion. “You’re not-- You think I’m hiding from something and you’re not going to ask about it?” Even in the dim glow of the nearby track light, you can see the clench and release of his jaw.

“For all I know, you’re hiding from your last girlfriend. I know I’d find it hard to give you up, and I’ve known you for what? Two weeks?” Your feet are screaming at you about as loudly as the critical voice in your head, but happiness has made both just distant enough to achieve your goals.

He shoves his hands into his pockets, which you take to be a good sign. “Would that still be ‘textbook?’ This is all new to me.”

All of the cheeky, sarcastic, and cheesy thoughts that cross your mind would ruin the moment, so you go off script. It’s not the best, but it’s not awful, either.

“New is terrible for work shoes, but it’s lovely when it’s you. See you tomorrow night!”

Stay tuned for more stories in the Ro Roll! Would you like more of these two? Let me know 💚

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fic #fluff #hurt/comfort #captain america x f!reader #captain america x reader #captain america #steve rogers #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x you #captain america x you

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ronearoundblindly · 6 months

Text

Hideout (4.2)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Horny Teen, part two (see previous or series)

Summary: A late-summer heat wave hits you and Steve hard.

Warnings for smut (kinda unprotected sex, momentarily--guess that's dubcon to be safe--fingering, lots of foreplay things and dirty talk but Steve can't actually talk dirty, so...hot talk? IDK, gang, I 'bout died writing this. Prepare thy loins, babes). MINORS DNI. There is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this series is not for you! WC 3.1k

A/N: This part contains a cannibalized version of the original idea for this series, but since we've developed differently to this point, it is very different.

He calls ahead. For the first time in a year of visiting, he calls ahead and knows you aren’t working the night he’ll be here.

You work in the garden as long as you can stand before hopping in a cool shower. You aren’t even wrapped in a towel when the trill of your room phone—extension 14, as Steve now knows it—blares through multiple closed doors.

He’s checked-in, and in Room Two, but no pressure, if you want, if you don’t have plans, he’s here. It is the most adorable and awkwardest conversation of all time. It also never gets old to hear him scramble for the simplest of sentiments.

Translation: I’m excited to see you.

Your heart soars then immediately stalls in the stifling weather.

“I’ll be down in a few minutes,” you chuckle.

Of course, he opens his arms for a bear hug the instant the door labeled ‘2’ swings wide. Steve has fewer troubles with platonic affection when alone, that’s for sure, but who could blame him? You’re elated he’s here under any circumstances.

Record-setting heat this late in the summer has left all the AC units taxed to the brink, running constantly, and even with the in-room thermostat set stupidly low, a tank top and shorts is too much.

This means another first: both of you, in bed, naked.

Nothing’s happened, mind, because the swelter of the day zapped energy out of every creature for miles and miles around. The ice machine can’t keep up with eight rooms and your family needing relief from the blaze. From the bright stripe of red across Steve’s cheeks and his earthy musk, he was outside plenty. He’s wiped, too.

You wonder absently when the last time he wore cologne was and what it smelled like. Perhaps he never used it. Perhaps he misses small luxuries more than he ever realized.

Steve looks on the brink of heat-stroke, so you inched yourself onto one side of the bed to start, thinking skin-to-skin contact might be unwelcome. You barely got your palms on the sheets before he pulled you to him. You did not fight it.

It’s meant to be a profound comfort—your weight atop him—and it is.

Your cheek settles on his chest, eyes watching through the sheer curtains as dusk takes over the sky, a happy man stretched like a cat beneath you, smiling, heart beat slowing in your ear. So strong, so steady, so secure.

He’s safe. He’s comfortable. That’s all that matters.

You peer up from your perch. The thin worry lines on his forehead have relaxed. He seems younger. Freedom looks good on Steve Rogers, just as good as it looks on Captain America, maybe better.

You fall asleep straddling his hips, one knee hitched so the crook of your ankle drapes his thigh, slowly pushed up and down by his deep breaths.

You’re drifting, rocked gently by powerful waves in the nothingness of your blank mind, free like him, blooming in the warmth of a bright sun embracing you.

The glow continues until Steve gently shakes you awake.

The room is pitch black, the lights of the parking lot too muted to pass through the gossamer layer over the window.

“You’re…you were squirming a lot. Thought you might be having a nightmare,” his rough timber booms close to your ear.

“No, I—“ you wipe at your face “—I don’t think I was dreaming.”

Steve’s not so relaxed under you now. His abs quake slightly, and those slow breaths have become stunted, shallow with control.

“Did you?” you ask, looking towards his face, useless in the dark but your drowsy brain hasn’t caught up yet.

There’s a shuffling noise above you.

“Is that a ‘yes?’ Did you have a nightmare? You alright?”

The shuffling repeats, accompanied by a strangled “yes,” and you lift your arm to brace on his chest. It unhooks your leg from his, and the hard length of his erection moves from its perch at your ass, nudging the joint of your hip and thigh from below.

“Not—not a nightmare,” he whispers. “Just ignore it.”

Steve’s voice is husky, his grip on the back of your knee tight and unyielding, keeping you from trapping him between your legs.

Your impulse is to soothe him, to tell him he is fine and it is okay to be turned on, generally, when naked and pressed to someone you find attractive—hell, you definitely are—but if he wants you to ignore it, if he’d rather not, if it’s too soon or too hot (metaphorically, physically) or just too much right now, then you respect that. None of this has ever been about making him feel like how he chooses to receive affection is wrong.

Without moving any limbs, your fingers retract and relax, a gentle, nailless scratch to his broad pec beneath your hand, and his cock twitches, tapping your leg.

“Sorry,” Steve huffs.

“Do you want me to get off of you?” You suppress the urge to make a minor edit in that statement because it’s very close to what you want to do.

The shuffling noise sounds different.

“No,” he says softly.

You slide your hand up his chest to his neck and around the back of his head, petting the corner of his bearded jaw just below his ear, careful to use as few muscles as possible.

His cock taps you again anyway. “Sorry,” he mumbles.

You ignore it, as asked, and continue scratching lightly at his scalp.

“Hey,” you start in the darkness, “is this comfortable?”

You run your fingertips over his features while he nods, following his jaw up and down.

Unable to see, this paints the most vivid picture of Steve’s reactions. You feel the vibration of a hum through his cheek, the draw and release of his brow as you skate over his forehead. You hear his short chuckle when you brush ever-so-gently across his long lashes and boop his nose. Finally, you trace his open-mouth smile with the edge of your thumb, his ragged exhale rushing over your palm.

Tap.

“Sorry.”

“Comfy though?”

His voice is deeper than you’ve ever heard it. “Yeah.”

The drag of your fingers past the edge of bristly stubble and down his throat makes him shiver.

Twitch.

“Sorry.”

You flutter across his collarbone, wondering if that means he’s ticklish on more than just his sides.

“Comfy?”

He hums. You feel it rattle your cheek as much as you actually hear it in your ears.

You continue. His corded muscles giving only slightly to the pressure of your touch. His arm, his chest, down to the hand he keeps on your leg.

Several more breathy apologies sound above you. Steve’s other arm is draped over your waist, and with every pulse of need that betrays him, his grip tightens just a little. His fingers now dig into your soft flesh absently.

It’s hard to hide how desperate he’s made you, but the issue is mutual based on how his abs won’t stop tensing, searching for attention where he denies it.

You flatten your hand to his chest and make to move.

“May I?”

Steve’s swallow is louder than the ‘okay’ he returns.

You are careful not to push him in any weird angles as you raise up to your knees and straddle him, pinning his erection beneath you, not directly between your folds but nestled at the apex of your legs, just so he won’t have to worry about every involuntary poke.

With such fresh contact, he clenches his ass hard in response, lifting your whole weight completely before he settles again. The surge of heat to your core has you biting your lip to muffle a moan.

“Comfy?” you rasp at the same moment Steve offers a strangled “sorry.”

The low, constant whine of the air conditioner fills the hollow space around your cocoon of anticipation.

“New plan,” you laugh, relaxing your fingers to splay across his warm skin, “both of us stop doing that, huh? You have nothing to be sorry for, and I’ll trust you to tell me if you aren’t comfortable.”

“So…” Steve shuffles on the sheets, but whatever he moves doesn’t affect your position. “Can I touch you?”

You bite your lip harder before answering, your voice dropping to a sweet reassurance. “Yes. Of course you can, Stevie.”

You keep your pets of his chest and arms light, trying not to tickle him. He’s always so hesitant; you’re worried the tiniest misstep will send him back into his head—not in a good way.

The silence now feels purposeful, dense with possibility, and then rough fingertips land like a foreign explorer who’s braved months at sea solely to experience this moment.

A calculated inhale and exhale rock your pelvis, a wave of nerves foaming in your gut.

He starts innocently enough, mapping your thighs, muttering something about how soft they are, but you don’t dare lean to hear him better. No sudden movements. None. Even though your skin lights up as explosive as those 4th of July fireworks you missed.

Since there’s nothing to see in the room, you feel everything.

He keeps to the periphery of you at first, abandoning your legs to brush the same arms touching him, running fingers together, separating them just as quickly, caressing your palms gently, and dragging his short nails up your wrists without pressure.

You stiffen in pleasure, fighting not to shrink away from the purest intimacy you’ve ever experienced.

His long arms reach the curve of your shoulders, flit across your collarbone, and you’re doing your damndest to keep it together, leaning your head back in lieu of talking.

Don’t scare him.

It can’t last; you’re only human.

Steve’s hands slowly descend over your breasts, middle fingers catching your peaking nipples, and a lewd and aching cry tumbles from your bitten lips.

The force of it surprises you, but more surprising still is him, unfazed, encouraged to linger.

In that low timber, he growls.

“You like that… Knew you would.”

Your body throbs, pulsing with need and emptiness.

That means he thinks of you. He’s imagined this. He’s wanted this.

Stunning electricity shoots through your body as he pinches and twists, squeezes and kneads. Nothing too harsh, but he’s highly motivated when you purr and gasp atop him.

What else does he think about doing? How long has he fantasized? Is this as good as his imagination?

Yours aren’t the only noises now. He sounds tortured with little pleas and whimpers escaping before each guttural moan.

Arousal pools at your folds, and without realizing you started to move, the shy momentum of your hips has nudged his length to lay flush with your dripping center. His tip glides over your clit.

Again and again.

A hot pressure builds in you, faster than ever, kerosene dumped on your wet-dreams and burned to life, a spell manifest in the night.

Steve shakes beneath the palms you brace flat on his chest, the heels digging into his diaphragm.

He moves to grip your thighs hard.

Fire spreads beneath your skin as you two pant and gasp, his whole cock slick and slotted so close to where you truly long for him.

“Wait,” Steve groans, but you can’t understand.

No one could imagine how good this feels, how much you need this, how—

He sits up to stop you, accidentally notching himself at your entrance, your residual motion sliding the thick head of him past the that first, tight ring.

Steve’s lusty moan is barely eclipsed by your own, and you’re too close to halt sheathing him within you, arms instinctively wrapping his shoulders. Desire winds the coil in your belly too taut, the thought of losing this climax unbearable.

“N-uhhh god—“

He’s too sensitive though. He flips you both so your back crashes to the soft sheets and digs his grip into your side, his other hand thumping to anchor on the headboard. Steve sucks air through his teeth like he’s afraid the faintest smell of sex will set him off.

“Don—don’t move,” he orders in thick command.

It makes things worse.

You’re so close, vaulting off the ground and suspended by legs clamped around his waist, dangling on the precipice of ecstasy. You whine and clench, totally unable to control yourself, your nails digging into his back.

Steve cries out, choked at the hilt by your desperation and lost to his own finish.

His hand races from your side to your ass. He pulls out of you only to slot himself there and thrust his cock between your cheeks, cum shooting on the sheets below.

Mindlessly, you ride the cut of his abs, his course pubic hair adding almost enough friction to keep ascending toward your own end, but the void left behind is too consuming. The fire sputters and dims.

Steve buries his face in your neck, breath cooling the sweat lining your skin as he curls away from you, overwhelmed.

“Swear I was gonna wait,” he confesses to the tender spot behind your ear. “I swear.”

“Please,” you croak, tears prickling your eyes in lament for your ruined orgasm.

“Was gonna be better. Swear I’ll do better for you.”

You grope and claw at those thick arms which hold all but his face far away. “Please,” you beg pathetically, “fucking touch me, please.”

A drawn out grunt vibrates the column of your throat.

“Y’shouldn’t have ta beg...”

He shifts to his forearm, caging you in as you plead over and over. He kneels to hover, and your thighs weakly squeeze at his own to emphasize what you need.

“Sounds so pretty when you do…”

Something between a screech and a snarl erupts from your chest.

Steve shushes you, smoothing a big hand across your damp cheek, and quietly, he commands you, “show me what to do.”

Your quivering hold guides him by the wrist down your body. Words to instruct him won’t form in your sex-steeped brain. As luck would have it, he doesn’t need specifics.

“Next time I’ll taste you.” One finger teases your folds in search of his entrance. “Next time you’ll have to beg me to stop.” Two fingers drive forward, displacing a gush of your shared juices. “So wet,” he groans, agonized to silence when you jerk his hand to thrust faster.

“More.”

He sets a loving and delicate pace, the heel of his palm working your clit.

Too delicate.

“More,” you gasp.

He obliges, muttering how good he’ll be to you from now on. You’ll always be first. He promises.

The fire takes over again.

“More, Stevie. Please.”

You grind down on him to prove your point, and he marvels that this isn’t too rough for you.

Each strangled breath ties your moans together in a crescendo worthy of Carnegie Hall.

“God,” he rumbles by your ear again, “I know that sound. You’re close, aren’t you?”

Steve’s pumping fingers bully your body farther and farther up the bed, using only a taste of his real strength.

Your chant of ‘yes’ catches in your taxed lungs. He doesn’t need an answer though.

The super-stretched band snaps, a plateau of peace and weightlessness tipped at the vertex until—crash—nerves are razed all along you like a carpet-bombed battlefield.

“Uhnn, is that what you’re gonna feel like around me?” He sighs at the thought and stills his hand just to commit the ripple to memory. “How’m I s’pose to last?”

You slap a hand over his mouth, trying and failing to hold in your yelp of relief.

That mouth…that fucking mouth of his is a weapon all its own.

Tiny explosions wreak havoc on you, body and soul, as his fingers greedily coax you to keep coming—just a little more—just for him—one last rush—give him everything.

His lips open in your palm, but you grip his face harder.

You can’t. You can’t listen right now. You can’t hear one more dangerously sexy, completely innocent thing fall from his beautiful mouth.

Steve lets his hand go lax but doesn’t take it away from your clenched and spasming thighs.

He tries to speak again then gives up, waiting.

Finally, before you can collapse boneless to the bed, he hooks his arm behind your leg so you don’t land on the cold, cum-stained sheets.

He shakes off your forgotten grip of his jaw.

“Tops?” he whispers, patience personified in the long pause before you hum acknowledgment. “Can I kiss you?”

That fucking mouth…

There’s barely enough breath in you to make a sound, but the instant the ‘ye—’ forms in the back of your throat, Steve’s lips are on yours.

It's your first real kiss, of all the ways, after all this time, following all that.

You’d laugh if you weren’t smiling, suffocating in the gentle press that becomes deep and adoring. He kisses you thoroughly after each frantic gasp for air, savoring you, even in the reckless passion of the moment.

Steve rolls to lay you atop him again, more intimately than before. He keeps his face close, sharing breath even in the heat and stench of sex in the room, your wetness now smeared from his navel to his knee.

Turns out, he is a very good kisser, focusing on the act of physical connection. Not only do your lips touch, but he likes to nudge you into whatever minutely different position with his nose. He likes to nuzzle his beard on your sensitive skin until you giggle and squirm. He relishes you like you relish him.

He whispers things too soft to make out at first. It takes him a while to find his voice, to push past his insecurities, to find his confidence, but eventually, you hear it.

He mumbles how he should have been better, more prepared.

You weave all your fingers through his hair, propped on his chest by your elbows, smiling so he’ll be able to tell in your tone.

“Take the win, Cap.”

You freeze.

You’ve never called him that, and Steve stays silent for an excruciating beat.

“Sorry,” you offer in the dark, air conditioner churning out sobering drafts of reality.

Steve runs his knuckles gently in patterns across your bare back. There’s a short huff and an amused snort, you mind scrambling to plan some explanation as to why you’d haul the drama of out there into his safe space.

He guides you to settle against him again, tucking you into his strong hold with his chin resting on your forehead.

After what feels like an eternity, he simply asks, “comfy?”

A/N: In case you were wondering...

[Next part: Desperate Man, part one]

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @brandycranby @buckysprettybaby @ellethespaceunicorn @rogersbarber @bucky-fricking-barnes-reads @fallinallinmendes @mrsevans90 @lemonadygirl

#steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers series #steve rogers fluff #steve rogers fanfic #nomad steve #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader smut #touchstarved #touch starved!steve #touch starved #captain america fanfiction #captain america x reader #captain america x you #nomad captain america #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #hideout series

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chipified · 8 days

Text

Avatar hcs

Spoilers for the reckoning of Roku, the kyoshi novels and the yangchen novels. Note I still need to finish Rokus and kyoshi's books

Korra

• Korra has broken her fingers many, many times

• Her eyes are so bright and eye-catching. People stare at them a lot.

• She could pull so easily. She's great at flirting (usually) But she doesn't because she's loyal to asami

• Sure she was showing growth when she spared kuvira but she does NOT like her. Kuvira pisses her off

• Luckily she's able to make up for her lack of experience in the real world with how social she is but she is clueless about slang and she never understands references

• Jokes fly right over her head

• All of the krew has such a shitty sense of humour they laugh at the dumbest things

• Goes through like 12 hairstyle phases. She loves mixing it up

• Stubborn as hell she stood by the spirit portal decision for he entire life and death

• A really talented bender. In her spare time she attempts to recreate the feats of her past lives

• Bias towards kuruk. She thinks he looked very cool and admired his skills

Aang

• Being vegetarian spared him from the knowledge that he is allergic to shellfish

• Sokka and toph teased him about his first flirting attempts on katara until the day he died

• His death was really unexpected. He was mostly fine leading up to it. Noone could really figure out what killed him at first, it was ultimately just him overworking himself too much

• Not a fan of the spirit world. He avoids it where he can

• Koh the face stealer scared him senseless actually no matter what he says

• He was always really busy with his duties but he did try to spend as much time with his children as he could

• Was super doting on katara while she was pregnant

• Tried a long bearded look for a while. It looked awful and toph clowned on him so hard. So did his kids

• Admired Yangchen and Roku so much. Kyoshi freaked him out as a kid

Roku

• Those first few months of travelling with the air nomads sucked ass. He was constantly covered in mud, his hair was knotted and he STANK oh my god he missed home so bad

• Actually pretty clumsy. Even when he was old he would trip over his own feet all the time. Dislocated his hip once

• A pushover. Sozin would take his snacks and drag him places as small children and he'd just take it

• Sozin had no faith in his avatarhood

• Politics were a nightmare for him in his late teens and twenties because of how awkward he was. He grew into his own though and ended up decently good at negotiating.

• Has freckles, but they only show up at the height of summer

• He doesn't tan he goes red

• Low self esteem, he thinks everything he does is embarrassing

• Collected seashells. Both because he wanted to try and get reacquainted with the ocean and because he thought they were pretty

• Shortly after Yasu died, he was so petrified of water he could barely bathe. He was very traumatised for a long while

• His own safety wasn't much of a priority. Guilt consumed him, so he didn't care what happened to him, as long as the people he was close to were safe

Kyoshi

• Thank god for airbending because she is intensely affected by the cold

• Her Hands are always slightly shaky, so applying her makeup can be so annoying sometimes

• Politics bored her to death

• Queen of “this could've been an email”

Uses her height to her advantage as much as she can. It's just easier and leads to less violence

• Very kind to young children

• She doesn't mean to be harsh or rude, she's just very blunt and has a flat tone

• She got very sick very easily as a kid. If kelsang hadn't found her she probably wouldn't have lived much longer

• Insecure about her appearance. Rangi spent years convincing her she wasn't ugly

• She saw a lot of her younger self in Roku. It made her uncomfortable

Kuruk

• Hopeless romantic. Loves poetry, songwriting and those partner dances. You know damn well he took ummi on as many dates as he possibly could

• Self reliant. Asking for help with anything becomes harder and harder as he grows older (“older”). Even basic stuff like asking someone to help him carry stuff

• His parents were disappointed in him. In their eyes they raised the only avatar in recent history who just didn't do his job

• They both outlived him

• He was fantastic at bending though, he could pull of some tricks that not even his teachers could

• He should've been at the club bro!! House parties would've been his shit!! He would've eaten at karaoke

• As much as he drank he still despised the taste of vodka

• Wanted to be a father. But that didn't work out

• Trust issues

Yangchen

• Her hair started going grey pretty early into her life. She was crazy stressed

• Rip yangchen you would've loved weed

• She did not celebrate the day Chaisee died because that would be disrespectful. So kavik did it for her amen

• Really enjoyed sports. Would've killed it at baseball

• She doesn't like watching the lives of the future avatars until they hit like 25 they stress her out so hard when they're young

• One of the few team avatars to stick together for life and not retire at any point. All of them worked until they were forced to stop

• Infertile

• Tries to visit her sister in the spirit fog sometimes but can't bring herself to go in again. She stops doing this eventually

• Kavik cuts her hair. He's weirdly good at it. In return she brings him trinkets she finds in all the places she visits

• Yingsu and her have spa days together

• Her sanity was hanging on by a thread during Legacy. She was so close to crashing out

• The past lives “possessing” her was an issue her whole life, exacerbated in times of stress. Neither she or her past lives could control it. It just happened when it happened

Wan

• Realistically he knew that he couldn't just fix all the world's problems in his lifetime alone, but god he did not want to die the way he did. He really wanted a peaceful death

• The armour he was wearing when he died was slowly gathered up over the years from battlefields and things he just found on the ground

• His avatar state was slightly different from his incarnations. Since it wasn't something he was born with, it caused some issues. For example, his vision was very poor when he died

• Felt really bad about the impact he had on the other avatars lives.

• Super bored all the time. He's seen everything there is to see at this point

• Wan and raava are super comfortable they know literally everything about each other

• Never had a lover. It just didn't interest him at all. The following avatar just ended up looking similarly to him (Alternatively- he had a bad breakup with a guy and that is why none of the future avatars date men/j)

• Wan and Jaya (his friend that died fighting spirits) built the treehouse they lived in together. Yao (tree-sprit guy) met them a little later. They formed their own little family after being shunned by everyone else

• Yangchens life was his favourite to watch. Aang's life was his least favourite.

• Korra was the only one he went out of his way to speak to. He hasn't been summoned for at least a few thousand years and he just prefers to let them make their own decisions

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creampuffqueen · 2 months

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Cover Story

Yangvik Week day 1 - fake dating

Summary: At a party in the Earth Kingdom, Yangchen and Kavik are on a mission. When things don't go to plan, they have to think quick to keep their cover.

Word count: 4248

----

“Traveling alongside the Avatar - what an honor!” The older Earth Kingdom nobleman smiles over his glass of rice wine. Kavik forces a smile in return, swirling the liquid in his own glass to obscure just how little he’s drank. This must be the third time he’s heard the same sentence in the last fifteen minutes.

“Certainly. I enjoy the work.” The rehearsed words fall easily off his tongue, their smooth and gilded façade right at home inside the splendor of the royal ballroom of Ba Sing Se. “I am grateful to be a trusted companion of Avatar Yangchen.”

He goes to take a tiny sip of his drink, hopeful to avoid as much small talk as possible, but finds the wine frozen solid in its glass. Speak of the darkness.

A subtle motion with his hand is all it takes to unfreeze his drink, allowing him to actually take a sip - though with the delay he knows it now looks like he just drained the glass. Before the nobleman in front of him can comment, though, his eyes are drawn to something behind Kavik’s back.

Avatar Yangchen steps into place beside Kavik with gentle, measured steps. In the disgusting display of wealth here in the palace, she’s a yellow-and-orange breath of fresh air, both literally and figuratively. Kavik and the others had to dress up to attend this party. Yangchen, being an Air Nomad with no possessions to her name, did not.

The nobleman bows deeply before her. “Avatar Yangchen, it is a great honor to see you here in the Earth Kingdom.”

Yangchen bows to him in turn; a smaller motion, but no less lacking in respect. “Please, Lord Bozhou, the pleasure is all mine. I do hope you don’t mind, but I must steal my companion away for a moment. We have something to discuss with Lady Gyeshe.”

Lord Bozhou (how Yangchen can remember all these names, Kavik will never know) nods quickly in response. “Of course, Avatar, please. I will miss his invigorating tales, but you must take care of business.”

“Thank you, Lord Bozhou,” Yangchen replies, hooking one of Kavik’s arms with her own. She pivots on her heel and drags him away. To the average onlooker, her pace looks easy and relaxed, but Kavik can sense the tension in her grip and in the way she steps.

“He’s not going to miss me,” Kavik mutters quietly, trying to ease her with a bit of humor, “I was positively boring to talk to. And so was he, for that matter. Thanks for the save.”

“I didn’t come and get you just to get your sorry butt out of a conversation,” Yangchen whispers, in that eerie way of hers where her mouth hardly moves. “I just got the signal from Jujinta. We need to move quickly, but act as natural as possible.”

Kavik assumed about as much. If it were up to her, she’d revel in his small-talking misery all night. But they aren’t at the royal palace just to brush elbows with nobility. They have a job to take care of.

“You remember the plan?” Yangchen asks from the corner of her mouth as she smiles and nods at a group of Earth Sages they pass.

Kavik dips his head in acknowledgement at the delegation from Omashu on the other side of the ballroom. “I do. I’ll wait for three and a half minutes exactly, counting from when the door closes.”

Yangchen doesn’t respond verbally, only squeezing his elbow where their arms are linked. The motion pulls them closer than before. Kavik tries not to notice.

But as they stop to chat with Lady Gyeshe for a few moments, completing their cover story, he can’t help but notice that Yangchen still stays close, letting their shoulders brush together where they stand.

She’s done nothing different to her appearance tonight. Her robes are the same as always. Her prayer beads lay in the same spot against her chest. Her hair is in its usual braid, swinging low across her back. And yet, Kavik can’t keep his eyes off her. In this room full of beautiful things, she’s still the most captivating.

“Don’t you agree, Kavik?”

Kavik barely manages to hold back a noise of confusion - something he’s had to train hard to achieve. With only a blink to refocus his thoughts, he manages to pull on his fake smile and nod. “Yes, of course I do.”

Yangchen pats his hand softly, one eyebrow raising a fraction of an inch. Nothing gets past her; she clearly knows he wasn’t listening in the slightest. Still, she plays it off with ease, excusing them once again from the conversation and leading Kavik towards the door of the ballroom, arms still linked.

“Focus, please,” She admonishes as they exit, “We won’t get another chance as good as this one. If I don’t get Feishan some answers he’s going to get antsy, and we both know how that will end.”

“Sorry, I got distracted. It won’t happen again.”

“Distracted by what?” Yangchen asks lightly as they make their way down the grandiose hallway, “You were only looking at me.”

Heat rises in Kavik’s cheeks. He doesn’t answer.

Thankfully, they arrive at their destination before Yangchen gets a mind to press for a response. The palace of Ba Sing Se is fancy enough that they have designated rooms just for freshening up; one for men and one for women. Nobles have been using the rooms all evening, keeping their looks fresh for a whole night of royal partying. Now it’s Yangchen’s turn.

“I’ll only be a moment,” Yangchen promises aloud, for the benefit of the guard outside the door and the noblewomen already leaving.

“Please hurry,” Kavik urges in a similar tone, “I want to hear the end of Lord Bozhou’s story.”

Yangchen gives an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “I’ll be as quick as I can. It won’t kill you to stand outside for a minute or two.”

She steps away, and Kavik feels the absence of her at his side like a gaping hole. He’s so focused on her form retreating through the door that he nearly forgets to start counting, and he clenches his fist in frustration at himself. Keep your head on straight, you fool.

It isn’t difficult to feign boredom as he waits. Time passes so much slower when you’re counting each second. When he gets to three minutes he leans against the wall with a heavy sigh and begins to tap his foot. At three minutes and thirty seconds exactly, he pushes off the wall and heads back the way they came, ignoring the judgemental glare of the nearby guard. He can already imagine the gossip that will come from this. Some companion! Abandoning the Avatar at a royal function?!

Instead of heading back into the main ballroom, Kavik passes the grand doorway and keeps heading straight. He passes a few more rooms before he hangs a left, keeping his expression neutral, showing any onlookers only what he wants them to see: a man who knows where he’s going. A man who’s supposed to be there. Confidence is half the battle in infiltration. Act like you’re meant to be there and nobody will question you.

The amount of royalty, nobility, and generally important people gathered in the ballroom means that the majority of King Feishan’s guards are close to that area. However, the young Earth King is a paranoid man, keeping guards posted all throughout the palace, just in case. But as Kavik makes his way to the target room, he doesn’t encounter a single one. Jujinta’s part has gone off without a hitch.

Counting doors carefully to ensure he’s in the right place, Kavik at last stops walking, drawing his hand across the thick wooden door that should belong to the office of Minister Xahu.

That is, if he’s correct. He really hopes he’s correct.

The door is locked, of course. Not an issue, though. A small pouch at his hip, carefully concealed beneath his clothes, contains enough water for him to freeze two long, thin spikes of ice to use as lockpicks. Kavik unlocks the door easily and slips inside the office, returning the water to its container and shutting the door behind him.

Barely a minute later, two small taps sound through the wooden panel, announcing Yangchen’s presence before she lets herself in. She conjures a flame to her open palm, illuminating the small office room around them, casting their shadows on the wall.

She doesn’t bother with a greeting. “We need to hurry. Juji can only keep the guards distracted for so long without raising a proper alarm. I’ll take the walls in case the minister used earthbending to conceal anything. You take the desk and the bookshelves. Don’t move anything unless you’re sure you can put it back exactly the way it was.”

“I’m not an amateur,” Kavik reminds her, making his way to the desk.

Yangchen uses her free hand to start tracing along the walls, feeling with her earthbending for any hidden pockets or seals. “I know that. I mean, this ought to feel natural to you at this point. We basically met in a scenario exactly like this one.”

She punctuates her last sentence by winking at him over her shoulder. Kavik refuses to react, even as he feels his cheeks begin to redden. His fumbling hands very nearly knock over a small carved badgermole statue.

Kavik makes his way along the ornate desk, feeling with one palm for disguised seals or latches and using his other hand to tap a rhythmic pattern on the wood, listening carefully for any area that sounds hollow where it shouldn’t be.

Nothing. Kavik grits his teeth, keeping his frustration in check. He moves on to search inside the many drawers, taking care not to disturb the contents.

“Any luck?” Yangchen asks softly. She’s finished her check of the walls and is now inspecting the floor. The slide of her shoes across the polished stone floor makes a quiet rasping noise that prickles the hair on the back of his neck.

“Nothing yet. But these drawers are pretty full of papers. He might have tried to hide the records in plain sight.”

“Doubtful.” Yangchen peers over Kavik’s shoulder, glancing over the masses of files stuffed inside the drawer he has opened. This close, he can feel the ghost of her breath at the crook of his neck, feel the tiny puff of air she releases with every measured exhale. She keeps speaking, but Kavik finds it hard to focus on her words.

“Minister Xahu is the linchpin of this entire thing. He has spirits know how many people expecting their due, and he’s managed to keep it concealed from the Earth King for this long. Those records would have to be detailed, every copper piece accounted for. And he wouldn’t risk another minister or one of the aids accidentally stumbling upon them. They have to be hidden somewhere in this room.”

Somehow, Kavik manages to find his wits in order to give a proper answer. “You’re probably right. Let’s keep looking.” Yangchen pulls away from his shoulder and it takes everything in him not to utterly deflate in disappointment.

With the desk proving a failure, Kavik heads to the bookshelves while Yangchen makes another pass around the walls. He lets himself fall into his usual rhythm, one developed years ago during his time as an errand runner in Bin-Er. Move quick. Keep your eyes open. Leave no trace.

Though, his jobs in Bin-Er rarely had such high stakes.

Almost six months ago, King Feishan had contacted Yangchen to report a discrepancy in the amount of gold he was receiving from the shang cities. He’d demanded the Avatar’s presence to prove his claims, so Yangchen and Kavik begrudgingly made the journey to Ba Sing Se. The first of many, as it turned out.

Feishan had the two of them count every last piece of gold he received in his latest payment and compare it to the reports they’d sent alongside it. A non-insignificant portion was missing. The king was furious.

Now, they’ve nearly cracked the conspiracy. One of the king’s own economic ministers, a man named Xahu, has been allowing the shangs to siphon off city funds for themselves - and making his own pocket significantly heavier in the process. He demands a portion from each shang, as payment for keeping their theft off the records.

However, in order to keep track of exactly how much money is going where, Minister Xahu is certain to have his own set of highly detailed records. It isn’t easy to fool both the Earth King and the Avatar, and if the mission goes as planned, the minister will soon be seeing why.

Unfortunately, in order to justice to be enacted, the mission has to be a success - and the minister must be none the wiser that record of his activity has gone missing. At least, not until he’s put to trial.

Kavik is beginning to lose hope. Yangchen is on her third sweep of the office walls, and the flame in her palm is beginning to stutter. Not with exhaustion, but with frustration. Kavik himself has had even less success. Nothing in the desk, nothing in the bookshelf. The minister keeps his office sparsely decorated. They’re running out of things to search.

Yangchen flicks her wrist and the flame in her palm pulses bright, letting Kavik see the thin line of her lips, the deep furrow of her brow as she decides what they should do next. The glow from the fire makes her gray eyes look like molten pools of silver. For a moment, Kavik nearly forgets where he is.

“The plant. We haven’t searched the plant yet.” Yangchen brushes past him, making a beeline towards the towering fern in the corner by the door. Kavik spins on his heel and follows her, ready to assist in whatever way she needs.

With a swift motion, Yangchen grabs the packed soil in the ceramic pot and lifts, heaving the chunk of earth into the air. Instantly Kavik can see they’ve found their spot. A deep indentation is molded into the bottom of the dirt, roots growing around a distinctly block-shaped empty space. Kavik reaches into the pot and pulls out a dirt-covered wooden box.

Yangchen replaces the plant and the pair get to work, silently in sync. Kavik forms his ice-picks once more to unlock the box, and it opens easily under his practiced touch. The minister clearly thought he hid his secrets well enough that he only needed one lock.

The inside of the box is packed full with papers, an informant’s wildest dream. Kavik takes the top half and Yangchen the bottom, and together they sift through the papers at a breakneck pace, taking only the papers with the most damning evidence. Large sums, locations, actual names. Xahu has tried to play the game, but the older minister clearly knows very little about properly guarding secrets. Even the most amateur broker in Bin-Er knows not to use anything or anyone’s true name unless absolutely necessary. Kavik feels a bit like punching the wall. This is the man that robbed the Earth King right under their noses?

In only a few minutes, they’ve skimmed through the whole stack of records. Yangchen takes their evidence and tucks it into her robes, hiding the bulk of paper beneath the very forgiving outline of her Air Nomad clothing. Kavik puts the rest of the paper back into the box and relocks it. Yangchen lifts the plant again to let him replace the box into its hiding spot, cleans up the spilled dirt, and -

“We got it!”

Her arms are around his shoulders before he even realizes it, flinging herself at him with a wide grin, trusting he’ll catch her. Kavik’s hands land at her waist, holding her close for the brief moment of her hug. A triumphant smile of his own tugs at the corner of his mouth, the euphoric feeling of a job well done warming his chest.

Still smiling, Yangchen reaches up a hand to tousle his hair fondly, making Kavik scrunch his nose in mock annoyance, even as his grin remains firmly affixed to his face. “Hey, it took me forever to get my hair to look this nice!”

Yangchen just ruffles his hair again, rolling her eyes. “I like it better this way.”

Any retort Kavik had planned dies on his lips, his tongue suddenly refusing to make words as heat blooms in his cheeks. He watches, almost in slow motion, as Yangchen’s gaze veers away from his face. His ears - she must be looking at his ears, they’re probably bright red now and -

A palm slaps over his mouth. “Quiet! There’s someone outside.”

Kavik could kick himself. We just wasted so much time!

Yangchen steps out of his arms, nearly flattening herself against the door as she presses her ear to it. Kavik follows suit, straining to listen through the thick wood.

Sure enough, muffled voices can be heard, growing louder as the people advance down the hallway.

“Ready to get back to the party?” The first voice Kavik doesn’t recognize, but the accent is Upper Ring; the person must be nobility or close to it. Heavy footfalls nearly obscure the reply of the second person, but Kavik focuses with everything he has and manages to catch the second half of it.

“ - a moment, I need to check something in my office while we’re down here. Don’t wait, I won’t be long.”

Kavik’s stomach falls what feels like the height of the Northern Air Temple. The voice is unmistakable; he’s sat through enough miserable meetings with the man.

Minister Xahu is coming to check his office. The office where he and Yangchen currently are, stealing records that will get him sent to prison if discovered.

Yangchen turns to face him with a blank stare. She doesn’t have a plan for this. They assumed the minister would stay in the ballroom all night. He’d have no reason to travel this far into the palace, not with all the food, drink, and dancing he could want in one place.

Evidently, they were wrong. There’s no time to waste.

Kavik grabs the heavy chair from the minister’s desk and braces it beneath the door handle. That should buy them a bit of time as the minister struggles to push open the door. “Yangchen, is there any way you can earthbend us out of here?”

“Not without destroying the palace’s structural integrity,” She hisses in reply, beginning to pace. “And the walls aren’t thick enough for me to seal us inside, either.”

The office is sparse. There’s nowhere to hide. What excuse could they possibly give that would hold up their cover? Kavik’s mouth goes dry at the footsteps outside grow closer.

“Hang on, I’ve got an idea.” Yangchen grabs Kavik by both hands and drags him over to the desk. “You’re not going to like it. But trust me on this.”

“I think we’re a bit past caring about how I feel about a plan; tell me what it is.”

“You need to kiss me.”

“What?!”

Did he drink too much back in the ballroom? Did that plant have some kind of hallucinogen in its leaves? Did Yangchen actually just ask him to kiss her -

The door handle rattles, startling both of them. Yangchen’s head whips back and forth between him and the door. “Come on, it’s the only kind of cover that will make any sense!”

“But - I - what?”

The door handle rattles again. The chair budges a fraction of an inch. They’re running out of time.

“Oh for spirits’ sake, I’ll do it then.”

Yangchen grabs both sides of his face and crashes their mouths together into the best kiss Kavik has ever had.

Her lips are soft and warm and plush, pliable as they press into his, one hand coming up to tangle into his hair. Kavik stops breathing for half a second before instinct takes over and he’s kissing her back, imagining, if only for a moment, that any of this is real. Yangchen tugs at his hair and Kavik chokes on a gasp. She pulls him closer; his senses are overwhelmed by her. The scent of lemon on her hair, the heat of her body through her robes. He’s never been close to her like this before. He pushes her against the desk as the door finally swings open.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

Kavik is loathe to pull away, but he does anyway, wondering what they must look like from the minister’s perspective. Blushing faces, wandering hands, messy hair - every bit the young, overeager couple caught in the act.

“Oh! M-Minister Xahu!” Yangchen stumbles over her words, face flushed bright red. “What are you doing here?”

Kavik can tell the exact moment the minister realizes who he’s just stumbled upon. His green eyes nearly bulge out of his head and his eyebrows almost disappear into his hairline - impressive, considering how far its receded.

“Avatar Yangchen! My… apologies for the interruption.” The man’s jaw twitches, clearly unsure of how to proceed. A typical couple would be reprimanded and punished for trespassing in such a high level area. But this isn’t a typical couple. This is the Avatar and her companion.

Finally, the minister seems to have decided to treat Yangchen as the Avatar. He bows deeply before them, the couple still tangled together on his desk, and does his best to sound polite when he next speaks.

“Well, Avatar, this happens to be my office.”

Yangchen gives a surprised little gasp, covering her mouth with her hand. It’s one of the fakest sounds Kavik has ever heard her make. “Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t think - I mean, I didn’t realize this office would be needed this evening. You see, I just needed a bit of time away from the party and I asked Master Kavik to accompany me -”

“I understand perfectly,” Minister Xahu interrupts through gritted teeth. Kavik wonders just how much gossip is going to come from this. How long before news of this reaches the shang cities?

“Well, we should leave you in peace, Minister,” Yangchen says, pushing out of Kavik’s embrace and making a beeline for the door. She smooths her robes out as she walks, a flustered young woman trying to appear respectable - and not at all the spymaster checking to ensure the documents are still secured in her pocket. She gestures for Kavik to follow and he does as quickly as possible, eager to escape the fiery glare of the minister.

Yangchen bows to him in the doorway, peering up at him with imploring eyes. “I trust this… misunderstanding will not be mentioned to others here at the palace?”

“Certainly, Avatar; you have my word.” Kavik bites his lip to hold back a scoff of disbelief.

“Well, in that case, we must be going. Have a wonderful evening!” Yangchen grabs Kavik’s elbow and leads him away, a strange repetition of the way they walked to the office the first time.

It’s only after they turn the corner that both benders relax, Yangchen letting out an audible sigh of relief. “Good. He bought it.”

“Yeah. Quick thinking.”

She knocks their shoulders together, a small smile curling at the edges of her lips. “You did well, too. Good job making it look so real.”

Kavik can’t meet her eyes. His heart is still pounding too hard. “It was whatever. No problem.”

Yangchen pats at her outer robe again, making sure she still has the papers. “Now we can bring these to King Feishan, as well as the other shangs. We can finally put an end to this nonsense.”

She keeps talking, but Kavik isn’t listening, not anymore. His focus is honed in on her lips, on the curve of her smile, on the flick of her tongue as she forms her words. He kissed that smile a few minutes ago. He kissed her because she asked him to, and he wants to etch the memory of it into his brain.

He doesn’t know if he’ll get to kiss her again. Yangchen is clearly unaffected by it; just another matter of business for her. Kavik wonders if it’s stupid of him to hope she’ll ask him to kiss her again, even just for a cover story.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Kavik jolts at the question. “Hm?”

“You’re not listening. There’s something on your mind. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong,” he promises, willing himself to believe it. If he believes it, she won’t be able to tell that he’s lying. “I’m just still in shock we pulled that off, even with the hitch in the plan. Things rarely go that smoothly for us.”

Yangchen snorts in agreement, and Kavik’s heart flutters at the sound. “You can say that again. Come on, we’ve been away from the ballroom for a while. I’m sure we’ve been missed.”

They still walk with arms linked, even though the rules of propriety don’t require it at this point. It’s like neither can bear to let go. They step over the threshold of the ballroom as one, back into the gilded room of beautiful lies. Yangchen leans over to murmur something into his ear.

“You know,” She breathes from the edge of her mouth, a whisper of a whisper, “You’re not a bad kisser, Kavik.”

#yangvikweek2024 #yangvik #yangchen x kavik #chronicles of the avatar

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kateswallofweird · 1 month

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i miss the age of tumblr when mcu fanfictions were constant. post thanos snap so ig nomad!steve rogers x you ; will update wc later ; definitely not proofread

you didn't mean to fall in love with him. it just happened.

"they're after me again."

steve was up before you could even open your eyes. you felt the bed dip as you blinked away the remnants of sleep, and when you came to, he was frantically looking for his suit.

"it's hanging in the bathroom," you say, a yawn betraying you as you sat up, drawing the blanket closer to your body.

this was the third night in a row that he'd woken with a start, convinced that someone was coming to get him, to get you. it had happened in the past—the sense of impending doom, not the presence of a threat part—and every time anxiety filled him, you talked him down from his ledge of fear.

it was a consequence of the life he's lived for so long, you realized after his second panic. beneath the heroics (the risky plays that would leave anyone else for dead, the responsibility to run into fire when everyone else ran away) and all the power (the super serum and the expectation to always deliver), steve rogers was still a man whose heart pumped his body of blood and whose mind ran in circles when presented grief. a well aimed punch would still hurt him just like how years of fighting still incurs in him an unfamiliarity to peace.

"we need to leave," he mumbles. it's more to himself than it is a direction to you. "secure the perimeter. payments in cash. fake names and new disguises."

he fumbles with the zipper of his top. his hands start to shake, and the rings that line his eyes seem darker tonight.

"who's coming after us?" you ask, getting out of bed (despite your body aching for sleep) to help him. your fingers straighten out his armor, the rough kevlar fabric no longer leaving your fingertips raw.

when you look up from his suit, it's clear he's searching for an answer. his eyes scan the windows behind you, like he's expecting an assailant to launch themself through the glass at any moment.

"steve."

he is ripped from his anxiety by your voice. all it takes is his name, the gentle but commanding tone you take to bring him back down to earth.

"i . . ." but he can't even begin to form a sentence to tell you what's plaguing him.

he is a weathered version of the man he once was. captain america? what a joke; the modern day symbol of patriotism was laughable to him. he wasn't a hero anymore; he'd lost his fight. he was just . . . steve rogers now, a fugitive overridden with the fear of his past catching up to him.

"talk to me," you plead.

his chest tightens when his gaze meets yours.

"do you ever think about," he pauses, like he can't bring himself to say it, so you wait until he can. "do you ever think about how much better your life would be—without me?"

"never."

because you didn't mean to fall in love with him. you didn't mean to cross government lines and harbor a fugitive despite the growing consequences and a call for his return. you didn't mean to soften the heart of a hero growing sour, someone who's seen war and suffering and what happens when you fail to shoulder your burden. you didn't mean to find hope amidst the grief of a world half empty, spilling joy back into a man who was just about ready to give up. you didn't mean to fall in love with him. it just happened.

but you supposed that's what made love so beautiful; it's a choice. every day, every hour, every minute—it's a choice to stay and to do right by this person you've committed to.

"come back to bed. it's cold without you."

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #avengers x reader #avengers x you #mcu x reader #mcu x you #steve rogers drabble #steve rogers headcanon #steve rogers fanfiction #captain america fanfiction #avengers headcanons #avengers fanfiction

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y11irfilm · 1 month

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violet – chapter 4

qimir x f!reader | chapter 1, chapter 2 & chapter 3

summary: she had no direction. a nomad who didn't choose a side. but when a vision makes her save people, she has to face her mind in the worst way possible: on a planet made of water with the man who reminds her of her past.

content: pov qimir, reader has a nickname, mention of deaths, power bond, a kind of “chosen one”, dark past, sexual tension, dark confessions, romantic feelings developing, kisses | wc: 2300+

notes: hello, another chapter of “light and darkness” (and penultimate chapter) that has now turned only violet because i wanted to change the look and it also made more sense to this name. this time, the vision will be totally the first person of the qimir, which was a mission for me but i loved doing it. i made this vision thinking totally of the feelings of a bad guy who just wanted an acolyte but found a feeling that for me should be a mess for them. — english is not my first language!

It was barely dawn when I found her on the beach.

She was wearing her nightdress, her hair was tied up and her feet were stuck in the sand.

Her eyes were closed, her breathing was irregular and her saber was in her hands. I heard her take a deep breath and let it out, her mouth gazing for seconds at the saber. She began to move the saber in slow steps, without turning it on yet.

I'd known about her ability since the forest planet case, but watching how controlled and precise her movements were, my choice was certain.

I crossed my arms over my chest, allowing myself to continue watching her until she realized my presence, which I found difficult at the moment.

She made her movements faster and faster, walking along the beach, marking her presence in the fight and sinking her feet firmly into the sand. I could feel the confusion in her mind from last night's events. She took it out on each blow in the air. She was conflicted. I let a smile appear on my face, she was becoming more connected to her power every day and allowing herself to feel her true feelings about everything around her. That was what I wanted most, the power of the two of us together against the galaxy. Desire grew in my body.

I took a step forward, then froze. I could no longer move my body anywhere. I looked up again to see if she was all right, but she was more than all right. Her left hand was raised towards me and her eyes were still closed. She was using the Force to stop me.

"Hey, jellyfish, open your eyes. It's no fun arresting someone who's not in the fight."

Its eyes slowly opened. Red. They were a blood-red shade that surprised him. How? I not only knew, but sensed that she wasn't on the dark side yet, just small steps away from a doubt I'd planted in her head a few weeks ago. Was her father as bad as he said? After watching for a few seconds, I saw them return to the dark brown I had been watching for so long.

I felt my pressure return to my body as she lowered her hand, so I began to walk until I was a few steps away from her body. I watched as her head slowly turned to the side and her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Jellyfish?"

I smiled. "You seem innocent to look at, but you have dangerous tentacles. Or I may have seen you draw one of them in the sand while on one of my walks."

"It was my father's favorite sea animal. He swam with them, felt a strong connection and taught me to love them as if they were my sisters." I could feel the good taste of recalling childhood memories, she seemed at peace. "They used to call me Medusa. I miss them." I tried to find words to continue the conversation, but my thoughts were muddled. With each new piece of her past life, I become a man desperate for more and more.

"I'm going swimming."

I heard his words in the back of my mind while still stuck in the same conflicting thoughts. When I turned my head to look at her, I knew she was shining like a fucking star. I didn't remember feeling my heartbeat like that. I felt my feet take over, water getting into my clothes and my arms moving through the water towards her. I watched her sink for a few seconds and raise her body to the surface again, her eyes going towards me with a smile lighting up her face. She turned her body towards the ocean trail, moving her arms to either side and swimming away again.

"Hold on, wait a minute." I tried to keep up with her, but her nickname was true, she was a jellyfish. Medusa was born to be swimming in the ocean. I could hear her let out a few muffled laughs over the sound of the waves crashing against the rocks near the shore.

She was several meters away from me, stopping and turning her body towards me, making me stop. "Too slow for a person who lives on a planet covered in water, I'm disappointed." I couldn't remember when a smile appeared on my lips, but she noticed. "It's beautiful, it's kind. It's you." I didn't need to think to know what that meant for her. "It's a gigantic wall inside your mind, let the dark king rest for a while." Medusa slowly swam towards me and stopped a good distance away, I could feel her gaze piercing the wall. I waited for her next move, trying to anticipate and prepare my reactions. I felt drops of water splashing onto my face. She had moved her hand and splashed water on my face. Letting out a big laugh at knowing that I really wasn't expecting it.

Medusa began to walk away again, waiting for my footsteps. I just knew I had to bring her to me. I moved my arms to start swimming towards her, watched her raise her head a little and let the big laughs come out of her throat as she ran away from me. It was a beautiful sound that I wanted to hear more often.

Thoughts of a plan were emerging in my mind, and I automatically began to put it into practice. I sank into the water, using my control to avoid being found. I moved my arms quickly towards the aura I felt of jellyfish. On the count of three, I submerged back to the surface, placing my hands on his hips and pulling him to my body. "Gotcha."

Sun star. That's how I could describe his smile at that moment. "Congratulations, king." I felt a tightening in my chest. She moved her hand to one of the loose ends of my hair and tucked it behind my left ear. I felt her fingertips lightly touch my face before her hand fell back into the water. It was like a hot day, my body was burning.

The tightness in my chest continued until it was unbearable. I put one of my hands next to my chest, leaving the fabric of the robe untouched. Then I saw his irises paint a new art, but it wasn't what I had expected to see before. A violet was filling the irises of her eyes, while her smile was lighting up my heart. With one hand still on her hip, I pulled her closer, diving into her eyes.

"Why purple?" I murmured to the ocean.

She knew exactly what I was asking. "As a child, I remember hearing from the Jedi that blue represented hope and hope was them. Red was the blood of one corrupted to the steps of the dark side." Medusa slowly raised her arms, placing them on either side of my neck. The hairs on my body stood on end. I felt conflicted again. "Purple is just the combination of them. A person who lives on both sides. That's me." She murmured the words in my ear, feeling her nose move from my ear to my cheek and her lips deposit a seal on it.

My eyebrows furrowed. "When did you find out?" I saw her smile slowly disappear, replaced by a look lost in painful memories.

"When he killed her. When, when... When I saw him spit out his own blood the countless times I let the knife be plunged into his chest."

"I took his body in my arms and carried it to the ocean, swimming to them." Medusa closed her eyes for a few seconds and opened them again. The violet was still alive in her irises. "I did what my mother asked, I loved him until the last second. I let him die the way he always wanted to, alongside the countless medusozoa.

I let my hand rest on one of her cheeks, my thumb caressing her skin. I felt a wave pass us and continue with full force to the shore, I turned my face and watched the change in the sea. Medusa was controlling it. Looking at her again, she wasn't noticing her own change, living by recalling her melancholy memories.

I plunged back into her violet eyes, then to her eyebrows, her thin, upturned nose, the rosy apples of her cheeks and finally, her lips. Desire ignited every part of my body. I looked at her, letting my eyes linger on her lips. I longed to kiss her. No, my soul cried out to take her for myself. An animal was born in my chest, ready to take over every cell of her body.

Violet. She looked like a fucking goddess with those piercing eyes, trembling and alive.

"Medusa."

"Qimir."

The weeks of sharing moments in the cave. I opened my eyes as the days dawned, and she was my first sight. Her walks around the planet and my eyes following her as if they needed that to breathe in peace. Preparing food for us to eat in the silence of the ocean, while our gazes met, I couldn't keep the corner of my mouth from twitching into a half-smile as I noticed her trying to look away from the food. Sleepless nights I couldn't help but stare at her contemplating the tranquillity of the darkness, her dark brown eyes illuminating the cave sky with such admiration. "Home, yeah, it reminds me of there." Her words came out like a breath in the air, her gaze continuing upwards, seeming to be talking to someone. I knew who it was. Watching him train on the sandy beach, his feet wet from the water on the shore and his eyes focused on each blow in the air. I could feel his anger draining away in his blows.

Confused feelings. She turns me into a different man every day. A different one that frightened me. I shouldn't be confused, I knew every moment that made her the way she is, but they're moments that haven't made her even ten percent the way she is. I shouldn't be wishing for something like this, I shouldn't be feeling this way about her. But in our gazes, I didn't care about any feelings that were emerging. I just wanted her to look at me more and more.

"What's stopping you?" When she came so close to my face?

"It's going to destroy us, like your parents. We shouldn't be involved in this." I felt a wave form and hit us hard before continuing on to the rocks.

"For the guy who was going to make a massacre, that sounds funny coming out of your mouth." She wrapped her arms around my body, resting her chin on my left shoulder. Whispering into my shoulder: "A man once said that fear is a powerful emotion, when you allow yourself to feel it." I felt his face rise again and come within inches of my face. His violet eyes became my undoing. "You become free."

Those three significant words in their lives came out in one last breath of air from her. My hand went up to her face, my thumb sliding over her lips in immense devotion. My hand moved to her neck, pulling sharply and pressing my lips to hers. A guttural moan escaped my throat as I felt her hand move up to my neck, wrapping around a few locks of my hair and pulling them without any affection. My hand went down to her waist and squeezed the flesh with fervor. Running my tongue across the roof of my mouth as I devoured the tiny sounds emanating from her. The waves began to follow us each in a few seconds with their superhuman strength, but they seemed tiny for what we were feeling at the moment. I felt her other hand wrap around one side of my face, pressing my fingers together. Then I saw it.

Flashes of her running in my arms until she was in the sea, my eyes not leaving her sleeping face. She heard my voice, but couldn't understand the words. I felt a great anguish in my chest, growing with each flash in my mind. Until everything stopped and I was with her again. I abruptly moved a few centimeters away from her, still processing the images in my head.

"Qimir." She moved her hand to my face, but I swam back a few more centimeters. Regret grew in me as my eyes stopped on her hand raised in the air, watching the fingers slowly close and the hand fall back into the water. I stared into her eyes for a few more seconds before turning around and swimming to the shore. I felt her gaze pierce my back as I walked away from the beach, but I held back the urge to turn and look at her again.

I felt his presence next to my bed, lying down and his gaze piercing my back, but I didn't give up. Every second I thought about the torture of ignoring her presence, I remembered the flashes and the anguish in my chest screamed for help. I could feel her doubt growing every second in the few centimeters our bodies were apart.

Her fingers touched my upper arm and the hairs on my body stood on end at the touch. "Qimir." Her breathy voice brought me an ache I hadn't felt in decades. She moved a few centimeters closer until she was leaning her face against my back. It was unbearable to be with her and not be able to glimpse her illuminated eyes. "I can't breathe in peace with you like this." Her face pressed tightly together. "Please."

I couldn't anymore.

My body turning towards her, wrapping my arms around her and squeezing her body to mine. I didn't care about anything else at that moment, just having them in my arms. I would prevent that vision, no matter what I did.

#fanfic #qimir #qimir fic #qimir imagine #qimir smut #qimir the acolyte #qimir x reader #qimir x you #star wars qimir #the acolyte

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joelalorian · 5 months

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Tides of Desire - Epilogue

*mood board by the lovely @janaispunk. divider by the equally lovely @saradika-graphics

Pairing: Yacht Captain!Joel Miller x f!reader

Series Summary: TLOU no outbreak AU. Joel Miller is a luxury yacht captain running charters in the Caribbean. You join the crew as a deckhand and unexpectedly complicate Joel's peaceful existence. Basically the TLOU bunch on a Below Deck yacht.

Chapter warnings: 18+ MDNI. Fluff, smut, unprotected p in v (they're in a committed relationship). Smallish age gap (reader is 32 or so, Joel is 40). No use of y/n, though reader is of British descent and has the nickname Brit (occasionally used). Chapter names are nautical phrases.

a/n: This tale has come to its nautical end, docking in the harbor of happily ever after for these two. I was stuck for a long while on quite how to finish this off and I'm relieved to have finally done it. Hope you enjoy and thank you for coming along on this high seas adventure with me!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

Three months after the season ended, you pulled into a half-moon driveway, in front of a beautifully landscaped two-story home on three acres of land in the outskirts of Austin with every possession you owned tightly packed into your ride. You and Joel spent a lot of time together after the season ended, making certain that what you shared was much more than just a boat-mance. It didn’t take long to confirm that neither of you had any doubts left – what you had was as real as it got.

The Millers and Ellie were at the door and running down the porch steps to greet you before the car even stopped moving. The four of you shared deliriously happy grins as you got out of the car after the long drive from Florida.

“You made it!” Sarah greeted, throwing her lanky arms around your neck for a long hug. Ellie quickly followed suit, throwing her arms around your waist. Joel met your gaze, his chocolate eyes full of love and warmth at the sight of his favorite people so happy to see each other.

Breaking free from the young women, you turned to embrace Joel. His broad frame wrapped around you in a bear hug, squeezing just enough without hurting you. The scruff along his jaw gently scratched against your neck and cheeks as he peppered your face with kisses.

“Mmm, I missed you,” he breathed in your ear, the little puffs of air tickling the sensitive skin.

“I was only gone a week,” you laughed in response.

“Don’t care. It was too long, and I missed you.” Stepping back, Joel brushed his pouty lips against yours in a chaste kiss as the girls groaned teasingly. “Come on, let’s unload this mess so you can finally settle in and relax. Welcome to your new home, baby.”

It took only an hour to have you officially moved in with Joel and Sarah. Living the nomad lifestyle for the past several years had its benefits when it came to moving – you sold most everything that wasn’t a necessity or held some kind of sentimental value – and you were settled right into their home and lives without too much fuss.

After putting your things away – Joel cleared out half the space of the large walk-in closet and made other space throughout the home for your belongings – you settled for grabbing an ice-cold beer from the fridge knowing you’d fall asleep if you sat down.

The beer went down smoothly, soothing the dryness of your throat as well as the achiness in your bones from driving for so long. Joel leant back against the kitchen island, chocolate eyes drinking you in from head to toe like a man dying of thirst. A flash of heat swept through you, settling in your cheeks and ears. It had only been a week since you’d seen him, but the ache for him pulsed as if it’d been months.

“We’re heading to San Antonio, Dad!” Sarah called, tripping down the stairs with a small tote. Stopping at the bottom of the stairs to find you and Joel staring at each other, she shared a knowing look with Ellie. “Yeah, we’re gonna give you two a few days to get through the honeymoon phase. Glad you’re hear, Brit! See ya!”

Grinning broadly, Ellie added, “Don’t burn down the house and use protection, kids!” The young women were out the door, giggling madly, before either of you could respond.

The moment the door closed behind them, Joel pounced.

His need for you so great, he didn’t bother leading you upstairs to your newly shared bedroom. Instead, he took you right there in the kitchen, your body pressed forward over the counter as he practically ripped your shorts and panties down your hips. His own quickly followed, tee shirt coming off as well so it wouldn’t get in the way. Hand pressed into your lower back, Joel leant back, spit into his other hand to lube himself up, and watched as his hardened length sunk into your depths with a guttural groan.

“Fuck, sweetheart. How does that feel?”

Hips thrusting against your backside, thick cock going so deep and hitting just the right spots at this angle, you mewled in response. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure even as the counter’s edge dug into your skin painfully with each hard stroke.

“Use your words, baby. I missed your voice just as much as I missed those sweet little sounds you make.”

You twisted your torso a little to look at Joel over your shoulder. Holy hell, did he make the sexiest sight. A sheen of sweat already built up along his forehead, curls falling forward to stick to the damp skin with each movement. His face a mix of concentration and overwhelming pleasure as he stared back at you.

“Feels so fucking good, Joel. Don’t stop. Don’t ever stop.”

It didn’t take long for Joel’s thrusts to become sloppy, his need after a week apart left him teetering on the edge in short order. His body and mind had become so acquainted with yours so quickly that time apart was nearly unbearable. Bending over you, he murmured filthy things in your ear, causing a line of gooseflesh to rise along your skin, each word like a bolt of pleasure straight to your clit.

Within minutes, you came with a drawn-out shout of his name, taking advantage of the empty house to be as loud as you wanted. Joel worked you through it until the aftershocks became too much for him and he spilled inside you, your name a falling in an overstimulated whimper from his lips.

The pair of you stayed perched over the counter for several minutes, allowing your breaths and heart rates to return to normal as Joel’s cock remained inside you. When he finally softened and slipped out of your wrecked pussy, he stepped back and helped you stand upright on shaky legs.

Body trembling from the heady mix of exhaustion and the lingering effects of a mind-blowing orgasm, you let Joel lead you upstairs, your shorts and panties left forgotten on the kitchen floor. He tucked you into the bed you now shared – your mind still stuck on the fact that you now lived together – and climbed in beside you, wrapping his arms around you so you could nap securely in his embrace.

Days turned into weeks, which turned into months as you adapted to Joel’s off-season routine and developed your own rhythm in this new life you shared with him. Ellie and Sarah would come and go as they pleased, spending time with friends and taking online courses to complete their undergraduate degrees, leaving the two of you on your own with the occasional visit from Tommy.

Much of your time in those first few months were spent learning the ins and outs of captaincy with Joel’s guidance. His home office contained a plethora of resources for you to read and review and he would quiz you on different aspects of the job. You were well on your way to being ready for the captain’s exam by the time you enrolled in a training course, which you took while Joel worked a few contracting side jobs.

Before you both knew it, another yachting season arrived, and you were back on a boat with your favorite people. Navigating an established relationship with the captain was a completely different adventure as the two of you figured out how to keep it professional yet still have time together. Needless to say, you stayed in Joel’s quarters most nights despite technically having your own assigned bunk with Tess again.

For the first time in longer than you could remember, you woke up happy everyday and faced your beautiful live with the gratitude it deserved. You were blessed to have the love of a wonderful man, a fascinating career, and the best friends a girl could ask for.

Life was good, really fucking good.

fin

#joel miller #joel x reader #joel x female reader #yacht captain!joel miller #tlou #the last of us #pedro pascal #fanfic #fanfiction #joel miller x female reader #joel miller smut #joel miller series #joel miller story #pedrostories #joel x f!reader #tides of desire

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boxofbonesfic · 1 year

Text

Title: Brave [3 of ?]

Pairing: Orc!Steve x Reader

Summary: You manage to earn your day’s water, but also something else—Steve’s attention.

Warnings: 18+ Only, Genre typical violence, Warlord Nomad AU, Dark Fantasy AU, Enemies to lovers, Eventual smut, References to past abuse

A/N: a little more world-building, some insights into pack culture—and what’s expected of our reader 👀 i hope you all enjoy!

The rabbit’s ears twitch as it lifts its twitching nose to the air. You’re downwind, so it can’t scent you, not unless the wind shifts. It’s been hours of you sitting here, waiting as one by one the rest of the pack peels off, searches for better pickings elsewhere. You don’t, though, remaining still and quiet until you’re the only one left crouching low in the grass.

She lifts her head higher, ears swiveling before she lowers her head back down to the sparse patch of green in a sea of dry brown, her whiskers trembling. Slowly, quietly, you creep forward, pausing each time she does as you get into position. You nock an arrow, sighting it down your pointer finger—the way Steve showed you.

The thought of him curdles your stomach, and you grimace. What does he care if I live or die? You think snidely, your lips tightening as you draw back the string with a firm, steady hand. You grit your teeth. He thinks you weak—you know the others think so. They speak it freely, and in truth you cannot blame them. Your survival feels like more of a mistake than anything, a cruel twist of luck that had denied you the end you were supposed to meet. You are as unsuited to this life as both the cobbler and the baker’s boy, and yet you breathe while they moulder.

Don’t miss.

You release the arrow, and much to your surprise, your aim is true. The arrow pins the rabbit, the tip sinking into the dirt behind it. Its back legs twitch, and briefly your stomach turns as you watch the light go out in its frightened black eyes. Unexpected tears gather in your eyes as you wrench the arrow from the rabbit’s still warm flesh, and wipe it on the grass.

“I’m sorry.” You mumble, placing a hand on its little head. “Thank you.”

“To live out here is to take life.” You aren’t surprised by Steve’s voice, nor his presences. You suppose it had been foolish, really, to think you were alone. You wipe furiously at your tears before glaring at him over your shoulder with red-rimmed eyes. “It was an honorable kill.”

You look down at your hands, and swallow thickly at the sight of dark red blood.

“I have never killed anything before.”

The orc sneers. “Then you have led a much more comfortable life than most anyone, man, orc, or beast.” He gestures to the rabbit. “Come. I do not think anyone will contest that you’ve earned your water tonight.” You watch as Steve strings up your kill, tying it to the back of your saddle.

—

You approach the fire-pit with your rabbit, your jaw clenched nervously as you twist the rope in your hands. The orc female tending the pot is as broad-shouldered and gruff as the males, her blond hair cropped close on the sides, the top long enough to fall across her eyes. She crosses her arms as you approach, a surprised, if wry, smile on her face.

“Well I’ll be.” She takes it from you, nodding in approval. “Clean kill. I’m impressed. I did not think a thing as dainty as you would be able to draw one of our bows.” You know she doesn’t mean it as an insult, merely an observation. Orcs, in your new estimation, seem to be overly fond of blunt communication, unbothered nuance or delicacy. You had never thought yourself particularly dainty, either; though as you look up at her you realize how small you are indeed.

“Thank you.” She turns to place your rabbit upon the chopping block she has cleared, and you look away as she begins to clean it. “What… what is your name?” You ask awkwardly, and she glances up at you.

“Carol.” She unsheathes a heavy looking short blade from her hip, slicing the rabbit from tail to nose. “You’ll make a fine hunter yet, little human,” she complements your work a second time, and you duck your head, your cheeks burning.

“I—I’ve never hunted before.” You admit. “Today was the first time.”

“Have you not? Perhaps I shall take you next time. Mayhap we can catch bigger than a rabbit.” She winks. Carol does not shoo you away, not even when the other orcs begin lining up with their own, impressive kills. Bucky is last, of course, a small deer strung up on a pole he carries easily by himself over one large shoulder.

“We should make jerky from this one. Salt it and dry the skins between the saddles,” Carol says, slapping its flank. You hope in vain that his slate gray eyes will not fall on you—but you feel their weight even as you busy yourself cleaning foraged carrots, and you hear the sneer in his voice.

“Making yourself useful?”

“She killed a rabbit today.” You had not expected Carol’s defense, and when you glance up at her, she stands with her body broadside in front of you, like she’s trying to block you from view. “A good kill, for her first time.”

Bucky scoffs. “Every one of us had a doe skinned and parted out before we were even weaned.” He sneers at you, the tusks poking out from his lower lip glinting menacingly. “But I suppose if you were an orc youngling, you might be blooded for it.”

Carol rolls her eyes.

“I just want to earn my water.” You say, meeting his gaze as you jut out your chin. “That’s all.” Bucky says nothing. He glances down at your rabbit, and then back up at you.

“It’s a good kill.” You swallow—that is probably the closes to a compliment that he’s apt to come. He turns on his heel and walks away, dirt crunching under his boots.

When Carol serves out the stew that night, you get a bowl—instead of the scraps you’d been allowed to take from the pot in the nights before, and your stomach groans audibly at the privilege of being full. For the first time, you find a—small—place by the fire that no one seems to mind you taking. In your bowl, you find almost an entire leg of rabbit. You look up, expecting to find Carol’s knowing gaze, but instead, your eyes connect with cool blue across the fire.

You look down quickly, pretending to ignore the weight of his eye as you bring a spoonful of stew to your lips.

“I beg your attention, brothers, sisters, people,” Steve’s voice carries across the fire-pit like a clap of thunder. The response is immediate, a curtain total silence dropping. Though there is no king among them, you think Steve might be the closest comparable thing.

“The day after tomorrow we ride for Tarrath. You know what this means; we will not stop. Not for rest, not for water.” You swallow the uncomfortable feeling that this speech is partially for your benefit. His bright blue eyes rest on yours. “Do not fall behind.”

Carol sits heavily on the log beside you, a bowl held in her large hands. It provides a welcome distraction, and you drop his gaze, turning to look at her.

“Eat up, little human,” she replies, gesturing at you with a spoon. “You will need your strength.” You bite into the rabbit, a mixture of gravy and grease running down your chin as she nods at you.

“Tomorrow, we hunt.”

to be continued

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