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mrsbuckybarnes1917 · 3 months

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Summary: You and Bucky take his niece to the park, but things become tense when another parents confronts Bucky about his past.

Word Count: 4.9k

MASTERLIST

Finding Peace

As the sun beat down mercilessly on the crowded park, you realized with a growing sense of concern that the drinks you and Bucky had brought along were quickly dwindling. The hot, sultry air seemed to sap the moisture right out of your mouth, and you knew that Winnie, Bucky's seven year old niece, would need to stay well-hydrated if she was going to continue frolicking happily on the sweltering playground. Glancing down at the tiny, solitary juice box in your hand, you couldn't help but glance at Bucky, knowing full well that it would do little to quench his or Winnie's thirst in this heat.

“Hey baby, we're out of drinks.”

“We are?” Bucky looked at you in surprise.

“Unless you want to stay hydrated with this tiny juice box?” You smiled playfully, waving a tiny carton of apple juice at him.

Bucky's eyes widened in surprise at your statement, clearly not having anticipated the drinks running out so soon. As the three of you had set out for the park that morning, you had packed what you'd thought would be an ample supply of refreshments, but the combination of Winnie's boundless energy and the sweltering summer temperatures had made short work of your provisions.

“Uncle Bucky! I need a push!” The little girl's excited calls rang out above the din of the playground, her infectious enthusiasm a testament to Bucky's skill in making her feel loved and cherished.

“Duty calls!” He smirked, getting up. “Coming!”

You gave him a quick kiss. “I'll be back in a bit,” you called after him, chuckling at his eagerness to spend time with his niece.

As you watched him go, you couldn't help but feel a warm glow of affection, both for the way Bucky doted on the little girl and for the way his dedication to her well being seemed to radiate from every step he took. Your heart swelled with joy at the sight, knowing that you were truly blessed to be a part of this family.

As Bucky emerged from the cool, shaded area and stepped out into the open, he was immediately struck by the oppressive sunshine that seemed to radiate from every direction on this bright, summer day. The intense warmth enveloped him, causing him to instinctively push up the sleeves of his shirt as he made his way across the grass towards Winnie.

“Hey Munchkin!” Bucky's face broke into a wide, affectionate smile as he gazed down at Winnie, this small child who had managed to melt his heart in a way no one else ever had. He remembered vividly the day they'd first met - the way she had shyly smiled up at him before suddenly throwing herself at his legs, wrapping her tiny arms around him in a fierce, fearless hug. There had been no hesitation, no apprehension in her expression, only pure, unabashed joy and trust, and in that instant Bucky had been completely smitten. Now, as he drew closer, that same adoring smile still plastered across her features, he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of tenderness and protectiveness towards this precious little girl who had so effortlessly won him over.

The pair were a cheerful sight, with Bucky's usually brooding demeanor softened as he watched Winnie dart between the colorful equipment, her laughter ringing out. But unbeknownst to Bucky, the other parents in the park had slowly begun to take notice of him, their eyes narrowing with suspicion and fear. A few had heard the stories of the Winter Soldier's deadly exploits, the trail of bodies and destruction left in his wake. And now, here he was, in their peaceful neighborhood, cavorting with a child as if he were an ordinary man. Surreptitiously, the parents began to herd their own children away, ushering them towards the exits with murmured warnings. Soon, the once-bustling playground had fallen eerily silent, save for Winnie's carefree giggles. Bucky looked up, brow furrowed in confusion as he realized the other families had dispersed, leaving him and Winnie the only two people in a ten yard radius.

“Where did everyone go, Uncle Bucky?” Winnie asked innocently, her bright eyes shining with childlike wonder.

“I don't know, Win,” Bucky replied, his voice tinged with a mixture of bewilderment and growing unease as he scanned the park, sensing the sudden shift in the atmosphere.

It was then that a burly, imposing figure stepped towards them, the man's stance radiating a threatening aura as he approached the former Winter Soldier and his unsuspecting young charge.

“Hey, you there! What do you think you're doing with that child?” the man barked, his voice harsh and accusatory.

Bucky's muscles tensed as he instinctively moved to shield Winnie from the stranger's looming presence. “She's my niece. What's it to you?” he replied, his tone slightly defensive.

The man sneered, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. “I've heard about you, Winter Soldier. You think you can just waltz into our neighborhood and play happy families? We don't want your kind around here, definitely not around our children.”

Winnie, sensing the tension, clung to Bucky's leg. “Uncle Bucky, who’s that man?” she whispered, her voice quiet.

Bucky knelt down, placing a reassuring hand on Winnie's shoulder. “It's okay, Win. Just stay close to me,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving the man who stood before them.

The man took a step closer, his fists clenched at his sides. “I'm warning you, Winter Soldier. Leave now, or there will be consequences.”

Bucky stood up slowly, his jaw set in determination. “I'm not that man anymore. I'm trying to make amends for my past. Please don’t threaten my family,” he declared, his voice firm and resolute. The words were laced with a protective edge, Bucky unwilling to let this confrontation escalate any further.

Yet the stranger remained unmoved by Bucky's resolute stance. He scoffed at Bucky's words, unconvinced by the former assassin's claims of redemption. And just as the confrontation seemed to reach a boiling point, the fearless young Winnie suddenly launched herself forward, her protective instincts overriding her fear. “Leave my Uncle Bucky alone, you… you big bully!” she cried, her voice shrill with determination.

It was only thanks to Bucky's lightning-fast reflexes that he was able to catch her before she could reach the imposing stranger, his arms wrapping around her small frame to hold her back. Winnie kicked and squirmed for a moment, her frustration evident, but Bucky's soothing whispers soon calmed her down. “Come on, Winnie,” he murmured, his gaze never leaving the unyielding man before them. “Let's leave these Neanderthals to their playground. We can go find Auntie Ace and find somewhere better to play.” With a final, pointed glare, Bucky turned and began to lead the girl away, determined to diffuse the situation before it could escalate any further, his protective instincts shielding his beloved niece from the judgment and hostility of those who refused to see him as anything more than the Winter Soldier.

As they walked, Winnie looked up at Bucky, her brow furrowed in confusion. “Uncle Bucky, why did that man call you the Winter Soldier?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

Bucky let out a weary sigh, steeling himself to have a difficult conversation with his young niece about his troubled past - a past that still haunted him, even as he strived to redeem himself and forge a new path forward. His vibranium arm whirred softly as he clenched and unclenched his fist, as though the movement might dispel the stress and anguish he felt about the situation.

Little Winnie was truly a remarkable child, possessing a level of perceptiveness and empathy that far exceeded her young years. As she gazed up at her Uncle Bucky, her eyes shining with compassion, she instinctively understood the complex and troubled history that lay behind his stoic demeanor. With a gentle touch, she reached up and cradled his face, her small hands conveying a wisdom and tenderness that belied her age. “It's okay, Uncle Bucky,” she murmured, her voice soft yet unwavering. “I will always love you.”

Bucky felt his expression soften as he met Winnie's penetrating stare, his heart swelling with a mix of pride and sorrow. “Well, Winnie,” he began, carefully selecting his words, “the Winter Soldier is a name I was given a long time ago, when I was a different person.” He paused, the weight of his past deeds palpable in the air between them. “I did things that I'm not proud of, things that… hurt a lot of people.” The admission was laced with regret, a heavy burden that Bucky had carried for years, haunting his every step on the path to redemption.

Winnie's eyes widened in surprise, but there was no judgment in her gaze, only a profound understanding that belied her tender years. Reaching out, she reverently traced the contours of his vibranium arm, a physical reminder of the trauma he had endured. “But you're not that person anymore, right Uncle Bucky?” she asked, her voice filled with a hopeful innocence that tugged at Bucky's heartstrings.

Bucky smiled sadly, his love for his niece evident in every line of his face. “No, Winnie, I'm not that person anymore,” he affirmed, his voice tinged with emotion. “I've been trying to make amends for my past, to be a better man.” It was a constant struggle, a journey of self-discovery and atonement, but Bucky was determined to honor the memory of those he had wronged by striving to become the hero he knew he could be.

Winnie nodded, her young mind processing the weight of his words with a maturity that belied her years. “I believe in you, Uncle Bucky,” she declared, her eyes shining with unwavering admiration. “You're my hero, just like Captain America.”

Bucky smiled back, his heart swelling with love for his young niece. “And you're mine, Win,” he said, taking her hand as they walked away, leaving behind the judgmental stares and whispered rumors of the other parents in the park.

Winnie's eyes suddenly sparkled with unbridled excitement as she tugged urgently on her Uncle Bucky's sleeve, her small finger pointing eagerly towards the glistening waters of the lake in Central Park. "Uncle Bucky, look!" she cried out, her voice brimming with the infectious enthusiasm that only a child could muster.

Bucky couldn't help but smile as he followed the direction of her gesture, taking in the serene scene before them - the tranquil surface of the lake, dotted with the toy racing boats currently drifting lazily across its calm expanse. He knew in that moment exactly what had captured Winnie's attention and ignited her boundless energy.

“You wanna go see the lake, Win?” Bucky asked, his tone gentle and indulgent, for he could never resist the allure of Winnie's bright-eyed wonder.

“The boats! I wanna see the boats!” she exclaimed, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet, her pigtails bobbing with each eager movement.

Bucky felt a surge of affection for his spirited young niece, her pure delight at the prospect of watching the boats glide across the water a poignant reminder of the simple joys that can be found in the world around us, if only we have the eyes to see them. Without a moment's hesitation, he knew he could never deny Winnie this chance to explore the tranquil lakeside and marvel at the graceful vessels that danced across its surface, for to do so would be to extinguish the very spark that made her so special.

"Of course we can," he reassured, his voice carrying a hint of the gruff, good-natured tone that was so characteristic of him. With a chuckle, he continued, "Just give me a minute, I've gotta let Auntie Ace know where we're headed so she doesn't worry." He dropped you a location pin, not saying much else in the message. He knew you would worry.

Bucky was right, you were worried. As you hurried back to the park, the melting ice pops in your bag dripped down your arm, the sugary liquid leaving sticky trails in their wake. You clutched the bag tightly, determined not to lose a single treat before you could deliver them to Bucky and Winnie. Reaching into your pocket, you pulled out your phone, fully expecting to have to call Bucky to get their location - but to your relief, you saw that he had already sent you their coordinates. With a grateful sigh, you followed the map on your screen, weaving through the crowds of people enjoying the beautiful day at the park. The path led you to the edge of a picturesque lake, where you found Bucky and Winnie excitedly cheering and gesturing at the water.

A group of children had gathered around a small makeshift racetrack, where tiny motorized boats were zipping back and forth across the calm surface of the lake. Winnie was leaning forward, her eyes alight with excitement as she shouted encouragement to one of the red boats. "I bet you two ice pops that the red one wins!" she cried to a boy standing next to her, who scoffed in response.

“Nah uh, the blue one is better. Plus, you don't even have any ice pops!” he retorted, sticking out his tongue in a childish display.

Bucky chuckled at their lively banter as they continued to watch the race unfold. Smiling to himself, you hurried over to join them, the cool, refreshing treat of two vibrant ice pops clutched firmly in your hands. With a warm, grateful smile, Winnie accepted the offered popsicle, the bright blue hue a stark contrast against her delicate fingers. Turning to her new companion, she couldn't resist a good-natured tease. “Still think the blue one is better?” she quipped, her eyes dancing with mischief as she took a delighted lick of the sugary confection.

The boy, Sonny, let out a sheepish chuckle, his hand instinctively reaching up to scratch the back of his head. “I don't have any,” he admitted, a hint of wistfulness in his voice. Casting a longing glance towards the pops, he couldn't help but whine to his nearby father, “Daaaad, can we get some ice pops?”

The father, clearly distracted by the attention of a scantily clad woman who seemed to be on her daily jog, waved off his son's request with an annoyed, "Later, Sonny!" His irritation at the interruption was palpable, and you couldn't help but look at him with narrowed eyes, silently pleading with him as you waved the extra ice pops you had purchased, hoping to secure his permission to share them with the disappointed boy.

Sensing your unspoken plea, the father gave a curt nod, and Sonny's face immediately lit up with joy. “Thanks, lady!” he exclaimed, his grin spreading from ear to ear.

Clearly delighted at the prospect that you had given her new friend the cool, refreshing treat, Winnie turned to Sonny and proudly proclaimed, "That's my Auntie Ace. Isn't she cool?" to which Sonny replied with a grateful smile, “Yeah, pretty cool.”

“So, why did you guys leave the playground? Get bored?” you asked casually.

Bucky didn’t look at you, so Winnie removed the popsicle from her mouth, revealing a bright blue tongue, before explaining, “We left because some mean man was yelling at Uncle Bucky.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion and concern at this revelation. “What?” you responded incredulously, turning to Bucky for more details.

Bucky's broad shoulders rose and fell in a weary shrug as he recounted the incident as succinctly as only Bucky would. “Someone recognized me,” he said simply, his gaze downcast as the painful memories resurface. A familiar frown crossed his rugged features, the lines on his forehead deepening as he stared out at the serene lake before him.

Your heart sank as Bucky recounted the unsettling incident at the playground, his typically stoic demeanor betraying a deep well of pain and anguish beneath the surface. You could see the haunted look in his eyes, the way his broad shoulders slumped with the weight of the traumatic memories being dredged up. Winnie's innocent revelation of a ‘mean man yelling at Uncle Bucky’ now took on a much darker, more sinister tone, and you felt your blood boil with righteous indignation on Bucky's behalf. How dare someone accost this gentle, kind-hearted man simply for being who he was? A victim of circumstances beyond his control, forever scarred by the horrors of war and his past as the Winter Soldier.

A thousand scathing retorts and furious tirades bubbled up within you, a fierce protectiveness surging forth as you yearned to confront this callous individual and give them a piece of your mind. But one glance at Bucky's downcast gaze, the furrowed brow and pained frown etched into his rugged features, and you knew that your anger would only serve to further upset him. This was his burden to bear, the cross he had been forced to carry, and you sensed that he had long since resigned himself to the cruel judgment and unwarranted scorn of the ignorant masses.

So instead, you bit your tongue, swallowing your righteous fury, and focused on offering Bucky the comfort and support he so desperately needed in that moment. Your heart ached to see him so visibly shaken, the trauma of his past still haunting him even as he strived to build a new life filled with love and happiness. With a gentle hand on his arm, you conveyed your unwavering solidarity, silently letting him know that he was not alone, that you would always be there to shield him from the cruelty of the world and help him find the peace he so deserved.

Winnie’s new friend, Sonny, called out enthusiastically, inviting Winnie to come join him and his friends in exploring the nearby statues, an adventure that no doubt promised to be thrilling and captivating for a curious child such as herself. Winnie's eyes lit up at the prospect, and she immediately turned to Bucky, silently seeking his permission to venture off and partake in the outing.

You could see the clear internal conflict on Bucky's face as he wrestled with the instinct to keep his beloved niece glued to his side versus allowing her the freedom to explore and make new friends. As Winnie gazed up at him with those wide, pleading eyes, you subtly nudged Bucky, silently conveying your confidence that she would be perfectly safe in the company of the other children. Yet, Bucky remained uncharacteristically silent, his protective nature clearly at war with his desire to grant Winnie's request.

“Go ahead, Winnie.” You gave her permission.

Sensing his hesitation, Winnie wrapped her small hand around Bucky's waist and looked up at him imploringly, once again asking if she could go join the others. Torn between his love for Winnie and his overarching need to shield her from any potential harm, Bucky found himself at an impasse, his heart and his head at odds as he struggled to make the difficult decision of whether to let his precious niece venture forth on her own or to keep her firmly by his side, where he could ensure her absolute safety. Eventually he nodded and a delighted Winnie skipped off to explore with her new friends.

As Bucky tugged self-consciously at his sleeve, trying to conceal the gleaming vibranium of his prosthetic arm, you couldn't help but notice the subtle gesture. When you suggested finding some shade to sit in, you hoped the change of scenery might help him relax, but as you reached for his right hand, he pulled away, mumbling something about feeling too warm to hold hands. You knew that wasn't the real reason. Undeterred, you shifted closer to his left side, tentatively taking his metal hand in yours. You knew he couldn't feel temperature or pain on that side, but the simple contact seemed to bring him some comfort. He sighed heavily, refusing to meet your gaze, but you could see the tension slowly leaving his shoulders. For so long, he had kept people at a distance, terrified that they would be repulsed by the very thing that made him different. But with you, he was learning to let his guard down, he trusted that your acceptance of him went deeper than surface appearances. It was a gradual process, filled with small victories, and you were determined to be there for him every step of the way.

Though he had worked tirelessly to redeem himself, to become a force for good, the specter of his violent history continued to haunt him, casting a shroud of unworthiness over even the most tender moments. As he sat on the sidelines, observing the carefree laughter of the children, Bucky couldn't help but wonder if he would ever truly be accepted by society, if he could ever be seen as anything more than the brainwashed assassin he had once been. The vulnerability he felt in that moment was almost crippling, a raw, gaping wound that threatened to swallow him whole. He wondered if he deserved the unconditional love and acceptance that his niece had shown him. Bucky knew, deep down, that this wouldn't be the last time he would be made to feel unworthy, undeserving of the warmth and connection he so desperately craved.

“Bucky?” you called him gently, your voice a soft, soothing balm. “Can we talk about what happened?”

“What's to talk about?” He answered gruffly, the defensive edge to his words belying the vulnerability that lurked just beneath the surface. “People still think I'm a dangerous man. It's all I'll ever be.”

But you knew, deep in your heart, that this was not true. You had seen the gentle way he interacted with Winnie, the pure, unadulterated love that shone in his eyes whenever he looked at the little girl. Not because of who he had been, the Winter Soldier, the merciless assassin, but because of who he was now - a man struggling to atone, to find redemption, to reclaim the humanity that had been so cruelly stripped away.

“But why do they matter?” you asked, your gaze steady and unwavering. “Look at how much that little girl loves you,” you pointed at Winnie, the pure, innocent adoration in her expression as she waved at you from the statues, a testament to the man Bucky had become. “Not because of who you were. All she knows and sees is the wonderful uncle who loves her unconditionally. That's who you are.”

You gently reminded Bucky that this behavior was not unique to him. Even the revered Avengers, heroes who had risked everything to save countless lives, faced similar backlash and rejection from some quarters.

“Look at Zemo!” You used the man as an example of someone who had harbored a bitter hatred towards Steve and the other Avengers due to the destruction in Sokovia. Yet the world at large still celebrated the Avengers as champions, symbols of hope in the face of darkness. “The reality is, in this imperfect world, no one - no matter how good their intentions or noble their actions - can please everyone. There’ll always be those who judge, who refuse to understand, who cling to their own narrow-minded views. But Bucky, you can’t let the hurtful words of a few define your worth or your place in society. You’ve overcome so much, fought so hard to redeem yourself, and you deserve to walk tall and proud, even if not everyone is willing to see it.”

Bucky's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as he grappled with the weight of the situation. Your words of reason had struck a chord within him, their logic undeniable, yet the venomous words uttered by the stranger continued to linger, casting a heavy shadow over his soul. He could not escape the sting of those cruel barbs, their poisonous tendrils sinking deep into his psyche. You watched his internal struggle with a mix of empathy and concern, unwilling to pressure him to process these turbulent feelings before he was ready. But you knew there was something you had yet to share with him, a revelation that you hoped would shift the course of his thoughts, though the trepidation of revealing this news held you back.

As Bucky contemplated the implications, a troubling realization took hold. “Maybe I shouldn't be bringing Winnie out alone anymore,” he murmured, the weight of responsibility bearing down upon him.

You understood his hesitation, yet you also knew that avoiding the issue would only prolong the pain. Gently, you broached the subject, acknowledging your own reluctance to push him, but emphasizing the importance of not letting this incident affect his actions. “Bucky? I'm sorry, you know I'm not normally one to pressure you with this sort of thing, but I'm going to need you to not let it affect your actions.”

His hackles raised at your words, and he shot back, "You think it's ok to just let my niece be exposed to this kind of thing."

The raw emotion in his voice was palpable, but you refused to back down, reminding him, “She's my niece too, Bucky.” Your quiet, slightly upset tone caused him to pause, the shame evident on his face as he recognized the impact of his words. And then, the gravity of the situation truly sank in, as you asked, “And what happens when it's our kid?”

Bucky's expression crumpled, the weight of that unspoken reality settling upon him like a lead cloak. “I don't know, Ace,” he admitted, his voice laced with sorrow.

You sighed, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill forth, your heart aching at the thought of having to have this difficult conversation in such a charged emotional context. You didn't want to tell him you were pregnant, not like this - but now, more than ever, you knew you had to. “I'm going to need you to figure it out,” you implored, your tone tinged with a quiet desperation.

“Give me some time,” he pleaded, his voice thick with emotion.

You knew in that moment that he was grappling with the enormity of the situation, the implications of which would reverberate far beyond just the two of you.

“You have eight months, Bucky,” you told him, your words laced with a quiet urgency. The clock was ticking, and the decisions he made in the coming days and weeks would shape the future you would share together - a future that now held the promise of new life, and all the joy and anticipation that came with it.

As the gravity of your words sank in, Bucky's expression shifted from one of confusion to dawning comprehension. The realization that you were carrying his child seemed to wash over him in waves, his vibrant blue eyes widening with a mix of shock and wonder. You found yourself unable to meet his gaze, anxiety gripping you as you waited for his reaction. Your hands clenched into tight fists, knuckles turning white as you fought to maintain your composure, unwilling to break down in the middle of the park where your young niece was blissfully unaware, playing just a short distance away.

The weighted silence between you felt thick and palpable, the tension nearly suffocating. But then, ever so gently, you felt Bucky's vibranium arm encircle your shoulders, providing a comforting, grounding presence. With his flesh hand, he tenderly cupped your face, guiding it to turn towards his own. His touch was feather-light, almost reverent, as he searched your features, seeking confirmation of the life-altering news you had delivered. “Ace, are you…are you saying that you're… we're… are you pregnant?” The words tumbled from his lips in a hushed, almost disbelieving whisper, a myriad of emotions playing across his rugged countenance.

The tears streamed down your cheeks as you finally confessed your pregnancy to Bucky, your frayed nerves and mounting anxiety causing you to break down in his arms. But Bucky's reaction was nothing like what you had feared - instead of recoiling in shock or disapproval, he immediately scooped you into a warm, loving embrace, whispering soft words of reassurance and comfort into your ear. His voice was low and soothing, radiating pure happiness and excitement at the news, and you could feel the tension and worry melting away as he held you close. In that moment, all your anxieties about how he would respond seemed utterly unfounded, replaced by a profound sense of relief and joy.

As you clung to Bucky, Winnie suddenly came running over, her young eyes filled with concern as she noticed your tears. “Auntie Ace, what's wrong? Why’re you crying?” she asked innocently.

Bucky's face broke into a wide smile as he quickly reassured the little girl, telling her that you were actually crying tears of happiness about something special. When Winnie pressed further, wanting to know what the secret was, Bucky gently told her that she would be the first to know when the time was right, eliciting an excited nod and a sparkle in her eyes.

“I promise that you’ll be the first person we tell when it’s time. Is that a deal?” Bucky held his pinky finger out to the girl, who wrapped her tiny digit around his in a solemn promise.

Bucky then playfully shooed his niece back to her friends, wanting a moment alone with you to bask in this momentous news. Gazing into your eyes tenderly, he pressed his forehead against yours and uttered the words you had been longing to hear.

“I've never been happier, Ace.”

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fan fiction #finding you #finding peace

150 notes · View notes

rookthorne · 6 months

Text

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐎𝐡 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥, 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐌𝐞 𝐒𝐚𝐟𝐞

Something was coming, and it was on its way to you — there was no way to save yourself from the devil that set his sights on you, and you were hopeless against the whims of his charm or rugged ways.

And in an act of gratitude and pure innocence, you allowed the devil in, none the wiser for what was to come; no man was without his sins, but better the devil you don’t know.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ꕤ Outlaw!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ꕤ 5.5k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ꕤ Explicit threats, attempted assault, non-graphic background character death, Grumpy!Protective!Bucky, fluff ჻჻჻ TROPES: Touch her and you die, Grumpy/Sunshine

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ꕤ Oh no, it's a Grumpy/Sunshine, touch her and you die trope collection in the form of a brooding outlaw — someone stop me.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒎𝒔 ꕤ Way down We Go by KALEO ꕤ Broken Bones by KALEO ꕤ The River by Blues Saraceno ꕤ The Devil Inside by Daniel Murphy, Anthony Sanudo, Eric Serna ꕤ Deadwood by Really Slow Motion ꕤ Ain't No Devil by Andrea Wasse

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ꕤ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Bad Reputation (February), Wild West AU (April) — Masterlist ꕤ @buckybarnesevents Alternate June-iverse 𝗖𝟭 — Outlaw AU — Masterlist

𝐑𝐮𝐧 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The bustling street that cut straight through the middle of the local livestock town as the main thoroughfare was overrun with folks going about their day.

Men, clad in leathers and vests with holsters on their hips lined the saloon stairs, while women in an assortment of skirts and blouses rushed with baskets and wares from the general store; their children playing in the mud, dirtying their worn clothes while mothers shrieked their grief over the once clean garments.

You couldn’t help the slight laugh that fell from your lips as you passed by a small boy who was splattered from head to toe in mud, his mother in a tizzy. “Now, Johnny–”

It was a pleasant day. A cool breeze blew through the side streets and over your sun-warmed skin. The basket on your arm was full of wares from your trip to the hunter down the lane, and the saddlebags on your old, trusted mare were lined with provisions from the general store.

Though no matter how pleasant it was, or how many children shrieked with laughter while they ran around your legs in joy, something screamed in the back of your mind that something was wrong — an instinct long honed after working on a ranch since you were only a child.

“Good mornin’, miss.”

You startled from your reverie at the sound of a deep, rasped voice to your right. “Oh–!” The man smiled sympathetically, and you realised with a jolt that it was one of the old sharpshooters — a man well past his prime, but one of the very few that had a shred of decency and sense within the town. “Oh, good morning,” you replied, smiling. “Pleasant day.”

He hummed in reply, and you continued on.

The shade of the awnings overhead disappeared as you walked out into the muddied street, and you blinked from the bright rays — halos of rainbows danced in your vision while the sun warmed your face.

From a way, a few stragglers from the saloon stumbled into view, and you sighed as you caught sight of the haggard appearances and putrid smell. You kept your head down and eyes averted as you neared their stumbling figures and scrunched your nose in disgust.

No decent, respectable man stunk to the high heavens of liquor with a temper to match a lit fuse.

The centre of town came into view, and the further you walked towards one of your last destinations for the day, the stronger the sense of impending something lingered in the air — it crackled with tension, akin to the static before a storm.

Every single man you passed was twitchy, their hands migrating to the holsters on their hips; every woman was hurrying by, faces taut with some unexplained worry.

Instinct — a woman’s intuition — insisted that something was coming.

You looked over your shoulder and cursed your past self for hitching your mare such a distance away. Her broad, muscled frame was no longer in sight through the scurrying crowds — the golden glow of her coat coloured with patches of white impossible to see through the scurry of people.

“Oh, girl,” you mumbled, and you half considered turning tail to head back home.

But the doctor’s office was only a few paces away, you reasoned, and you hurried along, resolutely ignoring the collective, worried gazes from the townsfolk towards the horizon. The muddied skirts of your dress fluttered as you trotted towards the clean building that housed the resident doctor, and the basket over your arm swayed with your gait. Best be fast.

When the heels of your old boots hit the wooden slats of the wrap-around deck, the door to the doctor’s office just within reach, it happened.

Around you, the townsfolk fell deathly silent — not a peep, not a sound. Every last man, woman, and child froze in place and stared, wide-eyed and stricken, down the street, downwind towards the horizon they were so fixated on.

Your stomach turned with nerves. The skin on the back of your neck prickled while your hair stood on end. It was an unnatural silence that pounded against your ears, and the blood that pumped through your veins turned to ice.

Gravely unsettled, you blinked against the instinct to run and hide, in favour or searching for the source.

The steady beat of heavy hooves thundered from down the street. Beside you, a woman and child gasped quietly — you paid them no mind, for the sight of two horses enraptured you.

Muscle and sinew rippled with the gait of their long, lean legs. They walked side by side, the tack on their back, chests, and proud, handsome faces jingled and followed the contours of their broad flanks. Their coats shone under the light of the sun, but there was no mistaking the inked black beneath the splatter of mud from their journey.

It would be almost impossible to tell them apart if it weren’t for the one on the left appearing far calmer than their companion, who snorted proudly and tossed their head.

Your focus moved from the stunning creatures to their riders, and your breath hitched.

The man atop the fiery, fierce horse clothed similarly to his mount. A rippling, black coat barely concealed the hip holsters that held revolvers with ebony accented grips, or the elaborate bandolier wrapped from his shoulder to his waist — the same black leather as his coat, but accented in silver, ornate imagery.

Rifles were strapped to the side of his saddle, long barrelled and scoped alike. From beneath his tilted hat, you could see the flow of jaw length, dark hair that fell in tresses to cover the profile of his face.

A man prepared for war, you thought distantly. He held himself like a soldier — straight-backed and proud, guarded and eyes swivelling to take in the stilted townsfolk.

Though you could not discern what was being said, you watched the man’s mouth move, and his head turned towards his companion.

You followed his gaze and took in the other rider. He sported a blond beard and brown leather, his own coat shorter and far less impressive — a simple rifle and a hunter’s bow was strapped to his saddle, and his gaze was far softer.

The horses walked closer and closer, and the nearer the two men came, the more nervous the people around you grew. A few men skittered off and bolted down side streets, or plainly ran away.

For the life of you, you could not understand why — they looked no different from the men that went rogue against the laws of society to take up arms in the wilderness.

You were still rooted in place when they came so close you could scent the rich, cured leather of their boots and saddles, and you couldn’t help staring at the extravagant wealth that lined their person and padded their mounts. It was plain as day they were no strangers to wealth, but to be an outlaw with wealth? That was unheard of.

It was only when they were right next to you did your ability to breathe truly vanish.

“I don’t like this,” the blond grumbled, his eyes darting from person to person. “It’s too open—far too open, we’re exposed. You know what’ll happen if we’re cornered–”

“Enough.” Sharp, grey eyes met yours, and within the second of that glance, you felt your stomach flip upside down. The heart that hammered in your chest rocketed upwards into your throat.

The stranger seemed to have an inkling for your reaction, or he experienced something similar — his eyes narrowed as he considered you, a piercing look that took hold of your wriggling stomach and forced it to still. “We’ll get what we need and move on. Calm down.”

You blinked, and he was no longer looking at you. Instead, his blond companion gazed at you curiously, tilting his head.

“Move on,” the dark-haired man spat, and he nudged his horse into a trot. The slap from the leather reins against his horse’s neck was loud.

Rather than spur onwards, the blond stared at you for a moment longer. “Rogers, get a move on.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, still staring at you. Blue eyes moved over your face before he turned his head forwards, then he followed behind his partner.

When the both of them were out of earshot, you heard multitudes of townsfolk collectively exhale with what you guessed was relief. “We don’t need another shoot out thanks to those bastards,” one of them grumbled. “Not after the last one.”

“Shootout?” you questioned, feeling your heart slowly sink back down into your chest. “What– What happened?”

They regarded you carefully. “You don’t come down this way often, do you, miss?”

You shook your head. “No, I live over–”

“Count yourself lucky,” they interrupted, raising their brows. “Those two are monsters. Don’t have the bounty on their heads for nothin’, and you don’t get any bounty hunters in these parts that go after ‘em ‘cause all the ones that do, end up fed to the wolves.” The bag over their shoulder was shrugged further up, their grip tight. “Just stay well away from ‘em, miss—not the kinda folk you want to get involved with if you want t’a live in peace.”

“But–”

They turned away. Their hunched back swayed under the weight of the sack on their shoulder.

You frowned at the retreating stranger.

Sure, they looked the part of a deadly duo, not unlike the ones in your novellas or dreams, but they passed through the town peacefully, if ominously — that was the fault of the townsfolk acting as though death himself strolled down the muddied street.

“I don’t understand…” A loud snort of one of their horses drew your attention, and you watched as the strangers dismounted and hitched their mounts right out the front of the general store.

Everyone gave them a wide berth; heads down and feet fast over the mud to get out of their way.

What a lonely existence, you thought.

For the entirety of your life, you were regarded as a bright, intelligent woman that worked hard. The passing of your family had hit you hard, but you were determined to live up to their memory, to maintain the ranch they left behind and restore it to its full glory — only that took up far more time than you anticipated, and while it was still a raw wound, you trudged on.

Being all alone up on your small slice of good ol’ Western soil was something you took pride in, but you had to admit, albeit grudgingly, that it wasn’t all it was cut out to be.

The thought alone made you sympathise with the two outlaws — a life on the road, running from societal norms and expectations while maintaining the lifestyle they no doubt had become accustomed to, made even you feel a sense of weary exhaustion deep in your bones.

Isolation was not a weak man’s game.

“Get it together,” you hastily whispered, shaking your head under the guise of shooing a fly. Your bright, generous personality would not help them, nor would it help you, you reasoned — not this time.

With a heavy sigh, you pushed open the door to the doctor’s office to purchase some medicine and supplies for the coming weeks.

The entirety of the town was still strung up with tension when you exited the doctor’s office half an hour later, according to your pocket watch — a family heirloom. People still rushed to and fro with their gazes locked onto the two black horses settled by the hitching post at the general store.

It was a foolish decision, but you stopped to admire their fine confirmations and broad builds.

There were no doubts on how war-ready the two were, though their docile nature threw you — never before had you seen horses stand so blessedly still and patient, even back on your own ranch.

You couldn’t help but take a step closer, the urge to feel the silken soft coats that were muddied from their journey overwhelming your rational sense. There was no mistaking the fact that they were both stallions now you were beside them; finely bred and hardened for battle from their owners' tendencies for violence.

A dark, mahogany eye met yours, and if it were possible, their face softened while their ears perked forwards.

On the other side of the stallion you greeted, was the one with a white star. His eyes were far kinder and softer than the first’s.

The first stallion knickered lowly while you stepped even closer, the compulsion to be near overtaking you, and you held your hand out for the creature to sniff. The brush of his lips over your offered hand made you giggle. “Aren’t you two beautiful?”

They snorted in tandem.

Suddenly, the hair on your arms stood on end, and the feeling of being watched spooked you into stepping back hastily. You glanced around to search for the cause, afraid for what you would find, but there was no one paying attention to you; far too consumed in their own needs to finish their runs for supplies or complete their jobs.

“I have to go, beauties,” you said quietly to the two horses, who only blinked in reply.

Your feet carried you swiftly away, but you glanced over your shoulder to the two stallions one last time, in awe of their strength and beauty.

You weren’t to see the set of steel grey eyes watching you from the gunsmith’s window on the opposite side of the street, not while you hastened your pace to get back to your own mount and go home — where it was safe.

People bustled and shoved against you as they made their own way, and you kept your breath steady and even the best you could.

Shouts and calls of workmen and ranch hands followed you as you half walked, half jogged onwards, and halfway to your patient mare, you were pulled up short by the rotten stench of waste and liquor — a potent mix that would make anyone’s stomach turn.

It was sickeningly close, and the source was a stumbling, drunken fool in front of you.

“Oh, no,” you mumbled. The volume of your voice was next to impossible to make out among the background noise, and you were grateful — there was no telling what this drunkard would do if he heard you.

His back was turned towards you, and you carefully hastened to walk around him, to avoid his line of sight, but his head turned just as you took a step to the side.

The sudden appearance of a woman within his filthy grasp caught his attention, and the words that fell from his drooling mouth weren’t even intelligible. “Ain– Pretty girl–” A hiccup and loud belch cut his torrent short.

“I’m just– Oh,” you gasped as the man pulled a knife and an old, rusted revolver from the inside of his jacket. A cascade of fear shut your mind down and locked your joints, the immobility frightened you beyond what you could bear. “No, no, please–”

They were only small weapons, but they would do no less damage if he shot you point blank or forced the blade through skin and bone. “Sir, please–”

“Gim’ money!”

“I don’t have– Please, leave me be,” you pleaded, holding up a placating hand. The fear turned your tongue into a lead weight in your mouth and you couldn’t speak more than a few words to plead for your life, which only infuriated the man further.

He advanced, his steps stumbling and uncoordinated, and the gun he brandished glinted in the sun — a menacing shine of metal that you knew was your last. The stench of his breath made your stomach roil with sickness. “Good for nothin’ whor–”

Footsteps rustled and waded through the mud behind you, and the world around you froze.

The drunkard’s mouth hung slack, wide with the shock from the sudden, cold bite of metal from the end of an ornate muzzle pressing hard into his temple. A gloved finger was poised over the trigger.

Your attention snapped to the brave soul that came to your rescue, and your own mouth fell open in shocked awe — the same outlaw that sent the town into a terrified silence held his ebony revolver to the drunkard’s temple with little regard for the force behind it.

He looked inhuman with fury laced through the pale blue of his eyes. Malice and disgust radiated from him in waves.

“Now do you really want to finish insultin’ this poor woman?” a husked voice asked behind you. You whirled around, the skirts of your dress fluttering, and found the blond outlaw standing behind you, terrible in his rage. “Robbin’ an innocent girl to get your fuckin’ dick wet at the whore house?”

There was a pregnant pause, only broken by the piteous whimpering from the drunkard. “I– I–” A dark stain grew over the crotch of his worn, stained overalls.

His head jerked hard to the side as one of your saviours pushed the muzzle of the gun harder against the thin bones of his temple with a snarl. “He asked you a question.”

“What the fuck do you think you were doin’, you bastard?” The blond spat. “Answer me before you get a third eye.”

Before the drunkard could answer, you cut in fearfully, “I– I just want to go home.” The darker-haired outlaw’s eyes flashed angrily as he looked at you, and you stepped back on instinct, only to come back to chest with his partner. “Please, just– I am so sorry–”

“You aren’t the one tossin’ around a damned fuckin’ gun like it’s your cock, sweetheart,” the blond soothed.

A low growl of anger came from the dark-haired outlaw’s throat. “And pathetic men who disrespect a woman in front of me tend to lose theirs—by a fuckin’ bullet or a knife, your choice.”

The drunkard stumbled to the side with the shove from the gun.

“Buck,” the blond said, and you guessed that was the dark-haired outlaw’s name. “I don’t think this fella is goin’ to answer me.” A hand rested on your shoulder, and you jumped. “Whoa– Easy, sweetheart, we’re not the ones that are goin’ to hurt you.”

The warmth from his palm abated the worst of the fear, and you followed where he guided you to stand — in his shadow that casted itself over the ground. “As for him, well…”

“Apologise,” Buck spat, nearing the drunkard’s pale, sweaty face. “I don’t care if I have to lose a bullet to get you to do it, either.”

“S– Sorry, miss,” the drunkard whispered, his voice high with terror. “Sorry, I–” He was cut off by the shove to the shoulder, and you watched as he clumsily ran away.

Only, Buck raised his revolver and cocked the hammer back before a shot ran out with a cloud of smoke. The sound echoed like cannon fire off of the surrounding trees and sparse buildings — you could even hear faint shouts and screams of fear within the township.

“Good riddance,” the blond said with a nod.

“I wasn’t goin’ to let the bastard go,” Buck said lowly, voice still laced with a poisonous vitriol. He looked at you then and lowered his head respectfully. “Miss.”

“I–” You tried, but some force was making you tremble from head to toe — waves of flight or fight warring within your mind as you stood between the two deadliest men you had ever encountered. “Please don’t hurt me–”

“Oh, sweetheart, no,” the blond said quickly, holding his hands up and away from his holsters. “Name’s Steve, this here is Buck—or Bucky.”

You looked between them, eyes wide with your fear and still rooted to the spot with your pulsing terror. While you looked at Steve beseechingly, you saw from the corner or your eyes as Bucky shrugged off his thick, leather coat to reveal a white, long-sleeved shirt, and a black vest that had embroidery and filigree within the expensive material.

He was silent while he stood there, coat in his gloved hands.

“Where’s your horse?” Steve asked, looking around.

“Over– She’s over there,” you whispered, pointing towards where you hitched your mare. The bustle of noise had caught her attention, and you could see her kind face looking in your direction with her ears perked. “I didn’t think to–”

“Don’t worry, miss,” Steve assured, and he looked at Bucky with a brow raised. “You good?”

Bucky nodded, then offered his coat to you. “To keep you warm,” he rasped. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

You blinked and almost dropped your basket, but Bucky rushed forward and caught it. “Here,” he offered quietly, passing the basket to Steve and holding up his coat — the inner leather was warm and rich with his scent, and you couldn’t help but burrow into the comfort it provided.

The basket with all of your wares hung from Steve’s arm. “We’ll take you home, then be on our way—that alright, miss?”

Bucky was still working the large coat over your shoulders until he was satisfied it would sit comfortably. “I– I don’t know–” The journey home was a long one, and you wouldn’t say no to the safety their company would provide, but the problem of your trembling limbs made you doubt whether you would be able to stay in the saddle for long at all.

The two of them seemed to catch on to your concern.

Steve frowned and glanced at Bucky, who was wordlessly staring at your hands. “You can hop on behind Buck—your mare can follow behind, I’ve got her.”

Without another word, Steve started to walk towards their two mounts that were waiting a few feet away — you hadn’t even noticed them.

Bucky glanced up at your face while you stared into his, and he smiled slightly. The ice that had settled in your stomach inexplicably melted away with the softness of his gaze. You followed behind him as he led you to their stallions.

The shadow from a building beside them made their coats even darker, and the bigger of the two started to walk forwards at the sight of you approaching with one of their number. It was the same horse that affectionately brushed his lips over your hand out the front of the general store.

“Oh, hello,” you whispered, unable to help the smile that pulled at your lips. “You are beautiful, aren’t you?”

“Don’t give ‘im a bigger ego than his owner,” Steve chortled. The withering glare Bucky sent Steve almost made you laugh.

“This is Rebel,” Bucky said, patting the stallion’s lithe neck and making the skin ripple.

“Hello, Rebel,” you cooed, scratching his nose affectionately. Then, you realised you hadn’t given any of them your name, and when you glanced at Bucky after offering it, his head was tilted minutely to the side.

He did not give you a chance to question why before he mounted Rebel and sat in the saddle proudly. “You can ride?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s grip on your hand was tight and firm, and he yanked you up from the ground with apparent ease. “I, uh– My home is a ranch.”

There was a pleased hum from Steve, and Bucky looked over his shoulder at you while Rebel’s hooves shuffled to accommodate the sudden new addition on his back.

“Hold tight,” Bucky said gruffly. You rested your hands on either side of his waist, holding steady while Rebel’s movements were smooth beneath you — the reins were loose, and Bucky’s thighs clamped around the barrel of his mount’s flanks.

“He is so beautiful,” you murmured again, just as Rebel made to turn around and walk towards your mare. On impulse, you moved one hand from Bucky’s waist to the dark coat behind your thighs.

The inky pelt felt not unlike a luxurious silk.

“Thank you,” Bucky said, then he clicked his tongue. Rebel took the cue and picked up the pace. “He’s been through hell an’ back with me. There ain’t many horses as strong as he is. I’m a lucky bastard.”

You moved your hands from Rebel’s coat back to Bucky’s waist to hold on. Even over the vest you felt the heat radiating from his body, and you couldn’t help but shift closer.

All the while a part of your mind screamed for you to drop and run — a long, dormant instinct that arose with such strength you’d never felt before.

The two men were no doubt two of the fiercest you could have ever encountered, that was not for debate or contest — you could feel the strength of Bucky’s control on his horse in the way the mount moved with such trained ease. Not to mention the muscles that rippled under the long-sleeved shirt of his made you realise there was far more than met the eye.

What held your tongue from screaming or crying for help was the way the two of them did not even bat an eye before shooting a vagrant drunk that accosted you, even though they had no idea who you were — just a woman going about her day.

Not to them, you thought.

You noticed the townsfolk that stopped and stared at the three of you while you passed them by, both shock and fear painting their pale, grime-streaked faces, and you couldn’t help but wonder what they were thinking. A poor, foolish girl riding with the most dangerous men.

“There she is,” Steve said suddenly, pulling you from your reverie. You blinked from the light of the sun, and found Steve pointing towards your mare, a beautiful, golden palomino who’s coat gleamed in the morning rays. “That’s her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” you replied, smiling softly at the softened gaze of your mare once she spotted you. “That’s my girl.”

“She’s a fine horse,” Bucky said as he pulled Rebel to a stop. “Stevie, you’ve got ‘er?”

Steve nodded and dismounted to unhitch her from her post. “You take the lead; I’ll follow behind with this pretty lady.” You watched as your mare was tied to the horn of Steve’s saddle, and she came into stride next to him with as little as a heavy sigh to acknowledge her predicament. “A dramatic one–”

“You haven’t seen the worst of it,” you laughed as you scratched at her ears. “Not in the slightest.”

During the journey back to your ranch, you couldn’t help but notice how silent Bucky was — all conversation and pleasantries were held between Steve and yourself, with minimal input from the brooding rider in front of you. During one of the longer stretches of silence, albeit a strangely comfortable one, you took a moment to consider with a keen eye how Bucky held himself.

The man was truly a marvel, that you assumed correctly. His broad, wide shoulders were straight, only slumping when he seemed to grow weary — most notably through Steve’s many tirades.

The black vest he wore hugged his chest and waist, accentuating the lines of his muscled torso in all of the right places, and it made you think countlessly of the heroes in your stories that lined the old, wooden bookshelf in your bedroom.

His shirt wrinkled and smoothed with each movement of his arms, the tight muscle beneath making your mouth water.

“How far do you live from town?” Bucky asked suddenly, and to your horror, he glanced over his shoulder before you could school your expression, or at least look away from the expanse of his back. Something flashed in his grey eyes, and you were embarrassed to see a small smirk forming on his full lips.

The coat over your shoulders was a welcome reprieve and you found yourself burrowing yourself deeper into the warmth it offered your still trembling limbs, and you hastened to answer before Steve could interject — the blond looked about ready to cause more trouble. “Not far, just a little while longer. You’ll come upon my fields soon.”

He nodded and urged Rebel a little faster, the movement of the horse’s hindquarters jostled you into being pressed right up against Bucky’s back. In the slight moment of shock, you clamped your arms around his waist tighter. The fabric wrinkled under your sudden, iron-clad grip, and under your hands, you could feel the low rumble of his chest while he laughed.

You rested your forehead against the smooth fabric of his vest to hide your shame.

Wooden fence posts suddenly appeared in your peripheral vision, and you glanced up to find the outer fence line of your ranch perimeter in all its glory.

The farmhouse at the end of the dusty, dirt lane was a modest building from the exterior, but you were relieved to see it nonetheless — wooden slats were bleached from the harsh light of the sun, and the characteristic weathervane of a loping horse still sat perched on the roof from when you were a child.

“We’re here,” you said happily, unable to stop the smile of relief. “That’s my home.”

Bucky said nothing while Steve moved his mount closer. “It’s beautiful. You live out here by yourself?”

“I do,” you replied wearily, side-eyeing Steve. “Why?”

Steve looked at you quickly. “I didn’t mean nothin’ by it, I swear.”

“Shut your trap, you fuckin’ bastard,” Bucky snapped, glaring at Steve. You blinked and stared between them. “Leave ‘er alone. If she is happy on ‘er own, she’s happy. She’s already proven to be a strong woman who doesn’t need the likes a’you to judge ‘er.”

“Settle, settle,” Steve laughed, “I meant nothin’, I swear, Buck.”

Bucky shifted in the saddle, and you felt him press back against you. The simple act to get closer made an indescribable heat climb up the skin of your neck. “Good, now shut it.”

You caught Steve’s gaze, and he winked while Bucky’s gaze was elsewhere.

The swirling confusion in your mind overtook any sense to question what just happened between them — they truly were an odd duo, but you didn’t linger on that thought too long before Bucky pulled Rebel to a halt on the earthen path that led to your front door.

The gate creaked and groaned in the slight breeze, and a few of the horses looked up from their lazy grazing to investigate the newcomers.

“Well, here y’are,” Steve said, handing you the reins for your mare. The two men were looking around your property with interest as you took hold of the rope, and a thought crossed your mind — it was reckless, dangerous, and possibly the most foolish idea, but something nagged within your heart to voice it.

“Why don’t– Uh, well–” The rope was tight around your knuckles while you fidgeted with it, and your mare nuzzled your elbow. “Why don’t you come on in? I can fix you up a hot meal and you both can, well—you can rest. I can at least thank you for your efforts.”

There was a beat of silence, then Steve said, “You sure, darlin’? We can head on off; we’re only passin’ through.”

Bucky’s expression remained impassive, but there was something in his gaze that told you that you were doing the right thing — however much your good sense screamed that it was a mistake. “I’m sure—come on in and I’ll get the pot going.”

You didn’t wait for them to answer before you set off to walk towards your home, all the while praying that you hadn’t just bitten the bullet.

“Well, that’s real kind,” Steve called, then you heard soft hoofbeats thudding over the earth behind you.

The horses scattered throughout the fields watched you walk by with the strangers in tow, ears perked forward and eyes bright with interest. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Rebel start to gain on you, and then you felt his muzzle brush your shoulder. “Hi there, pretty boy,” you cooed, kissing the side of his nose.

A deep chuckle sounded from his back, and you looked up towards Bucky, who was looking down at you with a soft smile — one that you found you’d do anything to see again.

“You can hitch the boys just here,” you said as you pointed to a wooden rail set just next to the porch railing. The worn oak was sturdy, and you knew it would hold the two stallions should they grow restless.

Steve dismounted with a loud groan, and he stretched to the sky when his boots landed on the dirt.

Bucky, however, moved his left leg up and over Rebel’s neck, and he slid from the saddle with as little effort — a difficult dismount performed with ease, and the bastard knew it, too. An arrogant smirk pulled at the corner of his lips for a moment before Steve rounded the back of his horse, when it vanished.

The sudden change in his demeanour made your brows furrow with confusion, but Bucky shot you a look that forced your expression to be neutral — whatever made him conscious of his outward expression of happiness was his business, you reminded yourself.

But you couldn’t deny the pull to see him smile again, not after your interest in the brooding man had grown tenfold over the journey home.

you're not gonna stop me, are you?

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑 ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

#bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x female reader #bucky x f!reader #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky x you #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes oneshot #bucky barnes fluff #alternate juneiverse 2024 #babb2023 #rookthorne's works

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tenjiiku · 8 months

Text

1995 / i do

6k words

masterlist | next

“I’m never going to trust a man ever again! Never! Never in a million years!”

A woman wails to two of her friends in an empty ramen shop during a chilly Winter night in November. Said ramen shop was aptly named Minano Ramen, a few miles away from Minano Station, Saitama. Said woman had no correlation to the location (as she was a bona fide country-bumpkin, hailing from somewhere in Nagano), nor to the type of provisions being sold at the aforementioned ramen shop (she was in a committed relationship to whole wheat and everything which came from it). Still, her company grounded her — which is why said woman, Amaya Bando, persisted under such shoddy circumstances.

You, being one of Amaya’s closest accomplices, gently pat her back as she lounges across half of the dining table. Her blouse was an utter disaster, and her hair was in an even more uncanny state of disarray. Being as you were sitting in the stool next to her, you were in charge of physical comfort for the night: The Good Cop. Your friend, the owner of the family-owned Minano Ramen shop, Umeko, was overseeing the harsh, motivational talks — as she was across the counter from both of you, wiping down dishes to close up for the night: The Bad Cop.

“Amaya-chan, you will sprain a muscle exerting yourself like this,” you coo, ever-so-softly, gently running a hand through the woman’s chestnut coloured hair.

“So be it! It will just be another tragedy added to the list that is my life! What is one more, anyway!?”

“You’re turning red,” Umeko coolly interjects, passing a glass of ice cold water to the hysterical young woman, “calm down before you burst a blood vessel.”

Amaya, sniffling, finally lifts her head from the counter. She is, indeed, flushed in the face. Her nose is an almost violent shade of burgundy — and she blows it once more in the handkerchief you hand her. Your brows furrow and your lips pout. You did not like seeing your friend like this, even if she currently resembled a spider monkey.

“I just thought—,” a gulp of water, an exhausted moan, “I just thought Sota would—would be the one, you know?”

“For fuck’s sake— he made you pay on the first date. I’m glad he left you.” The Bad Cop chastises.

“You deserve someone so much better, Maya-chan,” The Good Cop consoles.

Amaya’s eyes fill with tears. She opens her mouth — presumably to resume shrieking — but nothing leaves. A few seconds pass just like this, her mouth gaping and her teardrops escaping her eyes to fall on her flushed cheeks.

“You think she’s paralyzed?”

“Umeko— you… don’t say that. She’s upset.”

“Over Sota…”

“Yeah, so?” Umeko shoots you a look which screams ‘Are you serious?’ which makes you snort and murmur a quiet, “What?”

“Sota.”

“I know Maya-chan’s ex-boyfriend’s name, Umeko.”

“The man with the receding hairline. Who made our dear Maya-chan take the bus home — knowing he had a car — from their first date. Which she paid for, by the way.”

Amaya chokes and you jump at the sound, gently patting her back and shooting Umeko a stern glance. Umeko only snatches the napkin you scrunch in your hand away from you and walks away into the back, presumably to throw it out. Or leave you and Amaya to your lonesomes. That too was a possibility.

“Why do you care so damn much about who and who didn’t pay on the first date?!” Amaya hollers, suddenly gaining the strength of twenty bulls when being on the receiving end of Umeko’s cold indifference.

Before you can interject, the woman is already returning to the bar, hot on her heels. You open your mouth — but, like Amaya, excluding the frenzy — nothing falls out.

“That should have been a sign! No good man would have taken you on such a shitty date. And what do you do? Call him an hour after you return home and tell him you had a good time! A good time! Your socks were soaked from the downright torrential rain for god’s sake!”

“Umeko—”

“Yeah?! Well— I—I’m a nice woman! Unlike you! I—I see the good in people. And Sot—So—… whatever-his-name, he—he did many good things after!”

“Amaya—”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Ume—”

“He—He bought me flowers! Took—Took me on other dates that he—he did pay for, by the way! Since money is everything to you!”

You sigh shakily into your cup of coffee and lean your cheek against your palm, grinning when you receive a message notification on your phone.

>> (19:00) Where are you?

“Yeah, he bought you chrysanthemums! You’re allergic to chrysanthemums! He basically tried to kill you!”

“Why—Why are you so mean?!”

“Why are you defending the man who dumped you to be with someone else?!”

A silence befalls the shop after Umeko’s last statement. The two women engaged in the for-some-reason argument recline into themselves. Peering up at them, you shake your head before sending a reply to the message you received moments ago.

>> (19:02) Minano’s. Witnessing Ume and Maya in a brawl. Got off work?

“I think we can all agree here that Sota is the real McCoy of dickheads. And I think we can also agree that Amaya is much too beautiful and kind hearted for half of Earth’s population — and that Umeko can use Benadryl.”

A huff escapes Umeko’s lips and she runs a hand through her dyed yellow-blond hair. Amaya snorts a laugh, snot escaping her nose and the last of her tears pouring from her eye. You squint a little at the sight, and take a tissue from the rusted napkin dispenser to hand it to her.

It is a peaceful quiet for a few seconds. Then Amaya asks, her voice strained with a hint of pure amusement tinted between, “What the hell does being the real McCoy mean?”

“The saying originates from Elijah McCoy. Quite a famous inventor in the late 1800s, owned many patents after a bunch of dupes followed his name.”

Umeko guffaws at your statement. She looks at Amaya. “Can you believe she’s the one in a committed relationship between the three of us?”

You snicker and smile smugly to yourself, with Amaya letting out a chortle of her own. She sighs, scooting her stool closer to yours to rest her head on your right shoulder. You pet her cheek with your left hand, the other holding your phone open.

“Where’d you find such a man like Rin?” Amaya sighs gently, nuzzling into the sherpa of your coat.

Umeko sets down the last bowl on the counter before leaning against it, elbows propped up as she sneaks a glance towards your phone screen. She leans closer, seemingly also wanting to know the answer.

“Find? They’d been attached to the hip since university. If anything, he wouldn’t leave,” Umeko teases. You grin shyly and shrug your shoulders, careful not to exert the gesture and disturb Amaya’s newfound calmness.

“Yeah,” you murmur, “I just got lucky.” Turning towards Amaya you lightly pinch the fat of her cheek, “It’s about to run out. I can feel it.”

The low lighting of the bar sets Amaya’s piqued expression so naturally — it was as though it were her instinctual reaction to everything.

“You’re just a perpetual pessimist. I’d be willfully ignorant and quiet if I were you. Evil eye is a thing, you know.”

“Since when did you become so spiritual?” Umeko retorts.

“Since my ex stole ¥11,000 from my shoebox and left without sparing so much of a goodbye in the middle of the night.”

Umeko and you still for a few seconds. It is so silent you can hear the bellowing of the snow outside the shop. Then, Umeko murmurs, very quietly, “The hell? You never told us that. That’s a crime.”

“It’s fine… he left his Grand Seiko watch.. I bet it will fetch a good price.”

You grin and Umeko huffs. “Good girl, Amaya.”

The chime of the door opening alerts the three of you. Though the closed sign was turned, the establishment remained unlocked. No one had ever dared come inside when the patio lights were off. At least, not until now. The sight of the person at the door, however, pains a pleasant smile on your face. You hop off of the stool, not without a groan from Amaya who has to resume laying on the cold marble of the bar table, wrapping your arms around your body to adjust your coat.

“Yo, Itoshi, we’re closed.” Umeko’s voice hollers from across the shop. Rin grins at the statement, and it grows when you approach him.

“Hello, Honda-san, Bando-san.” he greets formally, taking your purse with his free hand and adjusting it to fit into the crook of his elbow, where his briefcase rests. The side of his mouth lifts as he looks down at you — adjusting the collar of his peacoat.

“It’s Amaya, Rin-kun. A-ma-ya.” The half-drunk woman slurs into her mug of beer. You shoot Rin a teasing smile, making him apprehensively run a hand through his hair and loosen his wool scarf — a bright neon pink colour — which you bought him as a joke years ago, but for whatever reason he wears consistently through the cold season.

“What are you doing here?” You whisper to him as Umeko and Amaya argue on the latter’s alcohol tolerance — or, lack thereof. You place your warm hands on his cheeks, turning his face left and right as you look for any imperfections.

“I was in the neighbourhood. I thought you knew?”

Rin murmurs in the low voice you like so much — the one that leaks in the bedroom. Your eyes widen and you look up, meeting his roguish gaze. You subconsciously cross your legs and shyly adjust your hair and pencil skirt, looking down at your sore feet clad in heels.

“I—I didn’t think you were this close.”

And he really was not. His office was a good twenty minutes away from Minano Station, by train. Thirty, if you consider the harsh Winter blizzard and Friday night traffic. But if Rin Itoshi was anything, he was your overzealous lover.

“I wanted cheesecake,” he says, so casually deflecting your onslaught of guilt. It never hits you. He never lets it.

You laugh at this softly, shaking your head. He leans into your one hand that still cups his cheek and you can feel his smile against your skin.

“Your hair is a mess.” You mutter, bending down to meet his eye.

“You look very pretty.” He replies instantly, making you flustered all over again. Rin has gotten better with pouring out compliments in recent years. It still takes you aback each time you are the receiving end of them.

An obnoxious cry breaks the two of you out of the daze you find yourselves in. You turn to find Amaya glaring at you with disgust, then looking towards Umeko.

“Blah! If you both are going to be in love and whatnot, please do so with a five kilometre distance away from me.” She utters and Umeko resumes to bicker with her regarding what constitutes as too much beer to consume in one sitting for a four foot one woman in her late twenties.

Rin looks at you, confused. He bends down a little bit, to accommodate for the strain you put into your neck. You feel the side of your mouth twitch. You can practically see his tail wagging.

“Breakup. Sota is an asshole.” You explain. Rin hums.

“I never liked him. He tried getting me to invest in Worldcom. Its trajectory is not looking good.”

Amaya, still listening in on your conversation and tuning out Umeko’s incessant lecture, sits up as straight as a brick.

“What? So Sota’ll lose money?” She inquires.

Rin sighs, taking his hand to rest around your shoulder and nodding. “If he still holds, definitely.”

Amaya makes a sound between a choke and a laugh and simultaneously claps her hands. She leans back in her chair and you quickly step forward to catch it — Rin being pulled with you.

“Umeko-chan, keep the celebratory drinks coming!” The woman cheers loudly, chugging her empty mug and presenting it to the tired woman across the counter. Said woman sighs exasperatedly — turning her gaze to Rin and yourself.

“You two should leave. Amaya is an obnoxious drunk and I don’t want to ruin the eve of your 30th birthday.”

You giggle at this, and turn your eyes to Rin. You ask him mentally — “Should we?”. And he gives an answer by positioning your purse and his bag — “We should.”

“Alright. Maya-chan, drink responsibly.” You murmur, placing a kiss on Amaya’s temple. She hisses so you take a step back. You nod towards Umeko. “Umeko, take care.”

“Yeah, yeah. You better send us photos of the celebration tomorrow.” She answers, furrowing her eyebrows when Amaya raises her mug and slurs gibberish on simultaneously wanting to be loved and to be a cat.

As Umeko ushers you both out, the door chimes softly, signalling the end of the raucous camaraderie. The cold night air greets you once again as you step onto the snowy streets, your hand held tightly in Rin’s. Neon lights cast ephemeral shadows on the white canvas beneath your feet, creating a surreal ambiance. Rin’s touch provides a comforting anchor in the quietude of the night. The city, wrapped in its wintry silence, seemed to only amplify the tenderness exchanged.

“You’re so warm…” you whisper to Rin.

“Am I?” He mumbles, his voice deep and smooth. It sends shivers up your spine, “You’re making me incredibly nervous, dressed like that.”

A wind blows by. You blame the sudden gust of cold for the sudden rigidness you find yourself experiencing.

“Rin…” You mumble, hiding your face in his forearm.

He only laughs, and stops walking when the two of you are under a street lamp. Opening your eyes, you find him in front of you — looking as though you have a treasure he desires. He takes your cheek in one hand, caressing your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into it, placing a kiss against the expanse of his thumb, and you giggle when you see a sudden redness develop on his face and earlobes.

“I love you.” He murmurs, leaning down to capture your cold lips with his warmer ones. You sigh, content at the warmth and the fluttering feeling travelling up and down your frames

When the two of you part, your whisper to him — a want, a need, something you have never received from anyone before. Until him.

“Never leave me.”

When Rin smiles, you know you are safe.

“Always.”

Five minutes after you arrive home, you vomit the contents of Minano Ramen Shop in a spectacularly violent fashion. In the quaint washroom you currently are in — still in your work clothes and with Rin in his half undone peacoat — resides two toothbrushes in a Miffy cup Rin bought for you for Christmas, a poster of the album cover of The Bangles, All Over The Place which the two of you found venturing small thrift shops in the corners of Shinjuku and pencil marks on the door frame — measuring your height for the last two years, bi-monthly (you have only grown half a centimetre. Rin has grown five.)

“Oh, love.” Rin mutters, holding your hair back as you clutch the toilet seat for dear life. You cringe at the smell, tear up and sniffle, then resume emptying the contents of your stomach — unwillingly, “I’m here. Let it out.”

Rin is very patient. You hang your head low, tears soaking your face. You do not want to see what you look like in the mirror. Probably anything but pretty. You can sense Rin bend down onto the soft bathroom mat beside you, massaging your shoulder and running a comforting, large hand down your back.

“Are you alright, darling?”

“Yeah, I—I think,” you gag before you can finish your sentence — and continue vomiting. Rin stays with you, his gentle voice acting as an anchor to ground you.

The whole ordeal lasts nearly a minute — but it felt like one hundred million years to you. By the end of it, Rin is carrying you to your shared one bedroom as you slur your words of protest.

“I can walk, Rin. I puked food… I think. Not blood. So I’m not dying.”

“You talk too much for a sick person.”

“I’m not sick,” you say, holding back another gag when you smell the remnants of vomit on your chin. Rin lays you down on your queen-sized bed, magically pulling wet wipes from his person and cleaning your face off. It is scary how overly attentive he can be at times. You were convinced he possessed psychic abilities for the first few months you started going out. Unfortunately, to your dismay, he was simply born with an innate sense of observation skills.

“Stay here.” He orders you, like you are a wet dog. He stands from his crouched position, and you feel much too dizzy to follow as he leaves the room.

He enters with a thermometer. You grunt.

“Rin… this is ridiculous.”

Of course, he does not listen to your demands. Hooking his index finger and thumb to your chin, he gestures for you to open it. You obey, of course — because you are hoping this attentiveness of his will stay after he is done this checkup of his.

“Your temperature is fine…” He murmurs, gazing down at the device. He looks up at your tear-stained face and his lips twitch, “I will go brew some tea.”

Anyway, he is gone again — and far be it for you to divert him from his rigid mind. You lay there, roughly for five minutes. You wonder if Rin is preparing anything else for you other than tea. You would not put it past him. Something possesses you when you are left to yourself, though. It has been happening for the past few weeks. A sudden intuition or shift in your brain — it tells you: ‘Something is wrong. Something is not right.’

You don’t know what exactly drives you to take a pregnancy test. You just turn your head to your bedside table, open the drawer, and see the plastic bag from the pharmacy. You picked up medicine for your frequent headaches and nausea, but, as stated previously — something possesses you when you are left alone. And, at that moment, it drove you to purchase some pregnancy tests. Plural, because this Thing is quite persuasive and nagging.

Rin returns to the bedroom, a tray with miso soup, warm rice, a cup of jasmine tea and leftover mackerel from this morning in his hands. He does not find you there. He calls for you, with no answer.

“Honey?”

A sound from the bathroom catches his attention. He places the tray on the bedside table, coming to you.

“Darling! What are you—”

You sit on the toilet seat, your hands shaking as you hold one of the tests in your hand. Your eyes are wide, and Rin sees it before you even have to tell him. He falls to his knees in front of you, bracing you by placing his hands on your thighs.

“It’s positive, Rin,” your voice is soft and weak. You can make out the sound among the ringing of your ears, “Am I losing my mind? Are you real?”

“Y/n…” Rin’s voice is even more gone. He opens his mouth, then opens it again. You can hear the tremble in his tone, “Is this real?”

You sniffle and your voice is wrecked as you whimper out, “What? Why are you asking me? I peed on the stupid thing and now it’s saying this. You think this is a sick prank?” You lightly hit Rin at the chest with your hands, but by the fifth swing he is bracing your wrists and looking up at your tear filled eyes with a pair of his own.

“Rin…” you feel your feet grow numb, and the ringing grows louder and louder, “I’m pregnant.”

When you were young — you would guess around seven or eight — you had a neighbour, Sana-san, who had a new man over everyday. Or, every night. You would watch her greet them from your parent’s bedroom’s terrace — typically around dinner time. Mama never let you watch television shows around 6:00 pm, so you resorted to watching your very own live reality show.

One particular evening, when papa was working overtime, and after watching Sana-san greet a man — who looked no older than 23 — with a hug and a kiss and a smile, you find yourself seeking out mama who cuts small chunks of potato directly into the hotpot. You only reach her hip, but you manage to fetch your stool so you can reach the counter height and observe as she makes your favourite beef curry.

“Mama,” You ask as she goes to wash her hands, “Why does Sana-san have so many husbands?”

Mama makes a sound between a choke and a grunt. You see her back stiffen and her hairs stand up. She turns to you, and in the softest voice she can manage, she explains to you.

“They—They are not her husbands, kitten.”

“But I saw her kissing them.”

“Where?! Where did you see that?”

“From the terrace. Every time I feed Inari.”

The stressed woman buries her face in the palms of her hands. You tilt your head, and follow her as she gestures to you outside the kitchen. Was she upset that you housed a bush warbler, whom you named Inari? You sit on the couch, as she crouches you in front of you with her apron still on.

“Kitten…” she starts, “Listen to me, Sana-san is a… very peculiar woman. She has her own ordeals and I have mine. I only have papa and she… she chooses to have many lovers.”

“Lovers? What does that mean?”

“It’s in the name. Someone you love. They are your lover.”

You hum at the explanation, then smile widely, “I want to be like Sana-san when I grow up. She has so many of them.”

Mama’s eyes widen the size of saucers, and she clasps your hands on her own. You flinch at the sudden movement.

“Kitten!” She blurts. You tilt your head.

“What?”

“You don’t— You shouldn’t strive for that. I mean, it’s nice, you’re right — she has many… many lovers. But it is even more special if you have one true lover that will stay with you forever and ever — like your Prince Charming. Right?”

You look into mama’s eyes. She seems tense. Strange, considering most of the time she is very much composed. It must be important, then, that you take her word for this situation. Though Sana-san seemed delighted every night, you were never the early bird — so you never saw her expression when her lover for the night would leave in the morning. Was Sana-san aware that they were going to leave? If she knew, how did she manage to say goodbye? Would she even get the chance to if they left without saying anything?

The possibilities all send an unpleasant feeling in your stomach. You want to eat curry and forget about it.

“I guess so…”

And that was it — at least for the night.

The next month, you saw Sana-san for the last time. She had come over, actually. You remember mama telling you to go upstairs when the woman came. But, being the sneaky seven or eight year old you were, you managed to hide yourself around the corner of your living room. You recall seeing Sana-san sob into her hands, and mama holding her small frame. You’d never seen Sana-san cry — not like this, not in general. The woman seemed so much smaller to you at that moment. You did not know what she was crying about, until you were thirteen and were running errands with your mother when you asked in the chip aisle — casually and erratically.

“She got pregnant. Her.. partner at the time wasn’t pleased. Neither were her parents. She moved to Australia, to live with her Grandmother.”

You swore to yourself from that day forward, you would never allow yourself to ever be in Sana-san’s place — even if you had to let go of everything good in life.

But you were a naive thirteen year old. You acted like you were thirty at that age. Now that you are twenty nine — you are acting as though you are nine again. Maybe living with your debilitated grandmother would be better than finding out you are pregnant with snot and vomit covering your shirt.

“Y/n.” Rin calls for you, squeezing your hands, “Everything will be okay. This is… it’s all alright. At least, it is to me.”

“You’re fine with this?” You ask, and your voice is drenched in anxiety and an unfamiliar rawness.

“Of course.” Rin expresses, looking down to meet your eyes when you lower your face to avoid his, “Are you?”

“I—I’m going to be a mother, Rin.” You whimper, “You—You’re going to be a father.”

The sudden realisation hits you — and it feels like a million pounds descend on top of you, not giving you any room to breathe. You feel terrified yet ecstatic, all at once. The beginning of an end.

“Oh—Oh,” you fall into Rin’s embrace, and he holds you — all of you, the dirty bits and emotional parts.

“I’m right here,” he whispers, “I love you.”

Through your sobs and whines, you murmur a small anxiety which makes Rin laugh and you feel alright.

“I drank black coffee. An hour ago. What if they’re hurt?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” He whispers, and you feel a wetness fall on the top of your head, “We’ll be fine. Everything will be fine.”

The next morning and late into the afternoon, you decide to take on the role of an interviewer, with Rin being your more than willing subject.

Brushing your teeth together in the one bathroom you have in your shared apartment, staring at each other’s features — trying to see which one falls first:

“What if—What if my feet start to swell? And my boots don’t fit anymore? I’ve heard that happens…”

“We can buy new boots, love.”

Rin, frying an egg for you on the stove as you stir your cup of coffee again and again and again with a spoon — as though your milk and espresso could be anymore amalgamated. The pigeons you shelter in the heated house you impulsively spent two weeks salary on — when you stumbled upon one shivering in the corner of the building entrance — chirping a morning melody for you in the snow-covered balcony. Brrr brrr brrr:

“Where will the—the,” your voice becomes a whisper, as though you are uttering a profanity or a strange secret, “baby,” then it returns to its normal tone, “sleep for the first few months?”

“With us, of course.”

“What if I smack their face? You know I’m a violent sleeper.”

Rin brings you your egg in one hand, and in the other, a bowl of freshly cut strawberries. He places a kiss on your forehead when he leans down towards you, “I am pretty sure there are beds for newborns we can look into to prevent that from happening.”

Standing, frozen, in the food bar of the grocery store — eyeing today’s special: sashimi. Rin directly behind you, reading the discount of chocolate chip cookies — 2 for the price of 1!:

“I am not allowed to eat raw fish. I—I shouldn’t. Well, I don’t know. Mama ate it all the time when she was pregnant with me. I turned out fine, didn’t I?”

“You did.” Rin murmurs, holding your hand but not turning around, making his arm bend in an uncompromising manner, “You turned out beautifully.”

You turn your head to Rin, then back to the sashimi, then back to Rin. You walk up next to him, and wrap your two hands around his forearm, resting your head against his bicep.

“I will eat tempura.” You mumble, and without looking, he pets your cheek as he reads the sale written on the sign.

And, the present — as the two of you sit side-by-side in your childhood bedroom, on your twin-sized bed that still has the same sheets on it as you left it (washed, you hope, if your overzealous mother remained overzealous enough):

Only a lamp is on. Its golden hue sets a peaceful tone. The window is open, the curtains bellowing at the cold Winter breeze filters through the wires. This was your sanctuary for so many years — until you left for university. You shared so many memories in this room, and now your unborn child… (Fetus? Really, what should you refer to them as at this stage? They must be not even the size of an edamame seed) resides in the same room you had your first kiss in.

You sit quietly, just like this. You can feel Rin observing you, as he always does. Except, unlike all of the other times, he gives you your space — room to act as unadulterated as you please.

Your mouth opens, and you can feel your lips tremble when you hear your mother and Rin’s laugh with one another about the wilted tulips outside, on the porch.

“I— we have to tell… our parents.” You say, your voice the quietest it has been today, “Just in case… in case anything happens. They’ll… They’ll have to find out eventually— if—if that happens, right?”

Rin has your left hand in his lap. He holds it with both of his, gently massaging the skin. He picks it up, and places a small kiss, before returning it to rest on his thigh.

“Nothing will happen. But, you’re right. We should tell them, preferably before you start to show. It would be a little… awkward if that were to happen.”

You laugh, and you cannot help but let a few tears leave your eyes. You turn your face to Rin’s, urging him to hold you. He obliges, and runs his thumb across your under-eye to catch your tear before it falls. You cannot believe how hormonal you are already starting to act. You are apprehensive on finding out how you will completely and utterly change as a woman — as a human being — for the months to come.

“Papa is out buying me a cake, right now. And his unmarried daughter is pregnant. God.” You can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

“Is that what you are worried about? Having a child out of wedlock?”

You snort, “Out of wedlock? What are we? In the 80s?”

“Darling.” Rin whispers, and damn him for calling you that — because he knows you like it so much, “If that is what you are worried about… it’s trivial.”

You are hormonal and cranky and pregnant, so, obviously you flip out on him over a very rational statement with no hidden undertones.

“What? How is that trivial you bastard? Are you going to be a deadbeat father— only visit during holidays and their birthday, is that it—”

Rin cuts you off — shuts you up, for a lack of a better term — with a suggestion so out of left field it almost makes you jump.

“I want to—I want to marry you, Y/n.” He starts, his voice louder than it was before, “And… And I want you to want me to marry you, too.”

For a few seconds, you say nothing. You just stare at him, as the moonlight behind you paints him in an evanescent glow. For a moment you think you are looking at an apparition from a dream. But Rin looks at you — and he looks at you with all the seriousness of a thousand men.

“You propose like this? When I look so hideous?” You say, your voice weak.

“You never look hideous. Ever. For as long as I’ve known you.” Rin mutters, getting off of your twin bed to only bend down on one knee in front of you. His hand plays with the hem of the dress you wear. He kisses the tips of your fingers, each one, looking up into your eyes.

“You—You are serious about this.”

“I am always with you. You know this, more than anyone.”

You feel your breath hitch. You feel the urge to hold him. Do something to sedate this uneasiness within you. So you mutter a half-brained statement, successfully pushing this off of you.

“You… Grandma does not even know who you are. Neither do any of my distant cousins. We—We’d have to let them know, too. Right?”

Rin pauses. His eyes widened. Your lips tremble as he cups your right cheek.

“Is that a yes?”

“I—There’s so many—There’s so many things to take into consideration—,” you start. But Rin does not let you finish this time.

“I know,” he says, voice low and you feel the thousands of pounds lift from your frame. “But is that a yes?”

You hold Rin’s hand as the two of you make it downstairs to the living room. You adjust your dress, and Rin his tie. You make sure to stop in front of a mirror to wipe the remnants of red off of Rin’s lips. He only smiles down at you — almost as though he is proud of the current situation.

Really. What the hell was I thinking? Having sex with my parents downstairs, in the bedroom I used to play dolls in. What type of answer is that to someone’s proposal?

“Sweetheart,” you jump when Rin’s father and yours appear from thin air. You instinctively grab onto Rin’s forearm, and his hair falls on his face when he bows to greet your father. The man in turn only holds a hand out, and Rin stands up straight again.

“Happy birthday,” Rin’s father smiles at you, holding out an envelope. Your eyes widen.

“Otousan… you shouldn’t have…”

What leads from that conversation is a lot of back-and-forth. What the etiquettes one should follow on someone’s birthday are — even those who may be close to the birth haver. Your father rehashing his thirties, with Rin’s father going into vivid detail about all of the spicy details and drama which enfolded in the University of Tokyo, where he was taking his masters.

By the time your fathers let the two of you be, your feet are already sore.

“It’s starting, already.” You sigh dramatically, and you can’t help but giggle at Rin’s expression.

“Relax, honey. My feet are just sore. I’m not giving birth at this instant.”

Rin’s eyes widen even more, and he looks around him to make sure no one is listening. He knocks his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the death of me,” he mumbles, low, eyes flickering between your eyes and lips.

“Keep it in your pants, Itoshi.” You bite back, kissing his cheek. He places a hand on your hip, but before you can even start, a tired voice speaks up behind Rin.

“Still seeing my brother, huh?”

Rin turns and you watch his face drop. You grin and step in front of him.

“You ask that every year, Sae-san.”

“And every year I hope to hear another answer,” The red-haired man retorts. You shake your head as Rin and him start to argue amongst themselves.

Hearing a knock at the front door, you excuse yourself to fetch it.

“I’ll get that.” You say, leaving Rin and his brother to fight in your living room — you have learned you can lead a horse to water but cannot make it drink.

You were not expecting anything when you opened the door. It could be a few other family friends mama invited. You were happy and you were content. You had a loving family, a loving partner, and a cake awaiting your arrival.

But, when you turn the door and your eyes meet the man who stands there — the same as he left you — you are suddenly nineteen again, and going through the first heartbreak of your life.

“Long time no see star-girl,” he says, a nickname you have not heard in nine years.

“Yoichi…”

You were right, last night — your luck was beginning to run out.

#writing #cw pregnancy #cw vomit #isagi x female reader #rin itoshi x female reader

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femininenachos · 6 months

Note

Hello lovely. I’ve been thinking about vacation au. Please tell me Clarke runs into Lexa swimming in some crystal clear Grecian water and wells has to close her mouth for her.

(Not quite, but close!)

Previously: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

By mid-morning the narrow streets near the harbour are already swarming with island hoppers fresh off the ferry. More line the quayside, waiting to board the day cruise that takes in the larger, more populous archipelago further down the coast. So-called ‘jewels of the Aegean’, they’re feted for being playgrounds of the rich and famous, boasting a slew of luxury resort hotels, designer boutiques and staggeringly expensive seafront restaurants.

For all its charm and scenic vistas, at least Polis has one foot in the real world. Here, craggy-faced fishermen and dock hands in scruffy overalls are hard at work unloading the morning’s catch, doing their best to ignore the clusters of tourists floating around, or at least tolerating their presence with stoic indifference.

And—it’s possible Clarke might be biased—Polis has Lexa, currently leading the charge like a woman on a mission. Clarke sticks close, her hand in Lexa’s sure grip, hurrying to match her loping strides as they make a beeline for the marina. Along the way they pass an assortment of small motorboats in all shapes and sizes, from dinghies and jet skis to skiffs and cabin cruisers and everything in between, until a gleaming white single-masted sailboat comes into view at last.

Clarke stops dead in her tracks on the cobblestones, fingers slipping from Lexa’s.

Her jaw drops.

“Is this yours?”

Lexa glances over and laughs at Clarke’s expression. “I make good tips, but not that much.”

She points to the modest vessel moored next to it, an open-top vintage deck boat with a walnut veneer interior and burnt orange leather upholstery that’s bleached from exposure to the sun and the salty sea air. ‘Spirit of Polis’ is written in blue cursive script on the hull.

“I mean, this one’s great too,” Clarke is quick to respond. She styles it out. “Not so flashy. Compact. Classic. Nice, uh, sleek lines.”

Lexa peers over the top of her sunglasses, lips subtly twisting to the side. “It belongs to my uncle, so you don’t have to worry about offending me or the boat.”

She puts down the cooler containing their provisions of cold drinks and extends a hand to help Clarke aboard. A little unsteady on her feet at first, Clarke holds on tightly for support while she finds her balance, shifting her weight to counteract the bobbing motion of the boat as water sloshes against the sides. Once she’s confident she isn’t going to fall flat on her face or, worse, into the harbour, she takes a few cautious steps to reach the small seating area at the rear. She shrugs off her tote bag to stow under the bench and situates herself, the sun-scorched leather burning hot against the backs of her thighs.

From this safe perch (and prime ogling spot), she watches Lexa collect the thick rope that tethers the boat, tossing it onto the deck before she gracefully hops across with the cooler and gets behind the controls. Full of poise at the helm, like it’s second nature to assume command, the signature pout in place as Lexa lifts her chin like she’s surveying her nautical domain.

It goes without saying that the whole preppy, boat-captain vibe is one hundred percent working in her favour.

Shades on. Hair spilling down her back in glossy chestnut waves, the ends getting whipped around by the wind. Appealing in her pale pink button-down worn over a snug white tank. Shirt open and catching the light breeze, the sleeves rolled up to reveal a hint of muscle definition and the ink that encircles her bicep. Tight little navy blue shorts hug her hips and ass in ways that are about to cause a major international incident at sea, because Clarke is far from looking respectfully.

“Ready?”

When her eyes snap up, she spies the half-smile on Lexa’s side profile, as though she detects the unholy thirst emanating from mere feet away.

Clarke gives a slow, absentminded nod, the tip of her tongue poking out the side of her mouth as her eyes make another involuntary sweep down Lexa’s form.

“Clarke.”

She gets a hold of herself, breathing in deeply, and with it the spell is broken.

“Mm? Oh, yeah,” she says, feeling a resurgent wiggle of anticipation about this mystery adventure they’re about to embark on together. All Lexa was willing to divulge when they met is that it’s Polis’s best-kept secret, a spot known only to locals, unreachable except by boat, and so far unspoiled by tourists. Clarke had feigned offense on the last point, but soon dropped the act when Lexa tilted in for a kiss that went on and on and made her stomach clench. Each time Clarke started to retreat, Lexa would chase her mouth and draw her back in for more.

Her lips are still tingling.

(Both sets.)

“At least give me a hint about where we’re going?”

The enigmatic smirk that plays around Lexa’s mouth widens a fraction. “I thought you liked surprises.”

“Oh, I do. But I’m also stubborn as hell and won’t take no for an answer, so jot that down.”

It earns a laugh, one Clarke is fast becoming enamoured with, and she can’t control the warm tingle that goes through her when she hears it or the rush of elation she gets from bringing a rare grin to Lexa’s face.

“Good to know,” Lexa says as she reaches for the ignition key. Her next words are almost lost to the splutter and chug of the engine before it roars to life. “I like a challenge.”

~*~

Within an hour, they reach a small, secluded cove surrounded by sheer limestone cliffs, the ancient rock sculpted by wind and waves, where sparse scatterings of tall, rugged pines sprout precariously from narrow ledges in defiance of the elements.

It appears like a mirage, shimmering into view: a bay of dreamy, pristine, white-gold sands and crystal clear turquoise waters, serene and inviting, and there isn’t a soul in sight. The closest thing they had to company was the pod of dolphins they spotted off the starboard (Clarke learned) side about twenty minutes ago. She’d gasped and clutched Lexa’s arm, bouncing on her heels in sheer delight. But it was the look they shared, brimming with joy and something unaccountably softer and fonder, that made it all the more magical, the moment already locked into Clarke’s memory.

“What do you think?” Lexa asks.

Lost for words, Clarke shakes her head in silent awe.

She turns to Lexa, and the smile Lexa directs at her, eyes bright and glowing in the sunlight, leaves her just as speechless. When Clarke finds her voice at last, it comes out thick, clogged with emotion; touched and amazed by the incredible beauty of what she sees—the place, and the woman who brought her here. So moved that she’s dangerously close to shedding a tear, her vision glazing over.

She blinks the moisture away.

“It’s…” She draws in a breath and lets it out slowly. Lifts her eyebrows. “Wow.”

She doesn’t second guess the impulse to wrap an arm around Lexa’s waist, to plant a soft, grateful kiss on her jaw.

“Thank you for sharing it with me.”

Full lips twitch at the corners. “My pleasure.”

With one hand resting on the wheel, Lexa drapes her free arm around Clarke’s shoulders. They remain like that, Clarke hugging Lexa’s side and taking in the spectacular scenery as Lexa guides the boat in at a steady rate of knots.

“I can’t believe this place has stayed under the radar. You’d think tour operators would be running excursions out here every hour until sunset.”

“Clarke.” Lexa grows serious all of a sudden, and that only makes Clarke want to kiss her again. Coax another smile. “You must promise not to tell anyone. It’s how we preserve it for future generations.”

Clarke schools her features, pretending to match Lexa’s gravity.

“Well… it’ll cost you. My silence doesn’t come cheap.”

The slight frown Lexa wears smooths out as soon as she catches on. A quizzical eyebrow flexes in a way that’s rudely attractive.

“Name your price, but don’t forget I work in hospitality.”

“I’m not interested in your money, Lexa. What I want” - Clarke trails her hand over Lexa’s hip and the perfect curve of her backside to give it a slow, purposeful squeeze, relishing Lexa’s intake of breath and the darkening of her gaze as she glances at Clarke’s lips - “is you.”

She meant to say “your body” but she doesn’t correct the verbal slip. Because, yeah, she does want to bend Lexa into all kinds of shapes like a pretzel, but she also has a deep desire to learn more about Lexa as a person, to find out what makes her tick, beyond what she likes to do in bed.

Lexa takes it in stride regardless, easing back into the confidence she has in spades.

Something about the slope of her smile signals she’s about to gain the upper hand.

She shrugs.

“Okay, deal.”

The enduring gleam in Lexa’s eyes before she turns her attention back to the sea gives Clarke palpitations. Her pulse thunders in her ears, drowning out the engine noise and the crash of the boat breaking the waves.

~*~

They drop anchor a short distance from the shore, an easy swim from the dazzling white sands. Not yet ready to take a dip, preferring to bake in the heat for a while first, Clarke spreads a large beach towel on the deck for sunbathing. She senses Lexa’s attention on her as she shimmies out of her shorts and shucks her loose tee to reveal the red halter neck two-piece that Octavia helped pick out after breakfast.

(“Hellooo, mama,” Octavia had drawled after Clarke emerged from the en suite and gave a reluctant twirl. She’d let out a low whistle as she ran her eyes up and down. “Almost wish I was tagging along just to watch Sexy Lexy’s head spin 360-degrees before it explodes. The twins ain’t playing.”)

At the time, Clarke had rolled her eyes and fought a blush but she’s glad she went with O’s suggestion.

Aware of her present captive audience, she proceeds to get comfortable on her back. One knee bent, an arm tucked behind her head as a pillow, showing off her best assets like a 1950s calendar pinup girl. Even behind the dark tinted lenses of her sunglasses, she sees Lexa’s eyes hungrily trace the shape of her body. Clarke basks in it, a smile tucked into the corner of her mouth, secure in the knowledge that she’s not just a snack, she’s the whole damn meal, and Lexa looks like she wants to devour every last crumb.

But Clarke’s smugness is short-lived, because in the next moment she’s the one left gawking when Lexa wordlessly strips down to the skimpiest pair of bikini bottoms and not a stitch else, brow quirking up as she peers over her shoulder then dives off the deck, slicing through the water with barely a splash.

Clarke quickly levers up onto her elbows to watch Lexa surface seconds later, hair slicked back and plastered to her skull, a sly little tilt to her lips as she treads water.

“Come on in. The temperature is perfect,” she calls out, looking every inch the siren that lures thirsty sapphic sailors to their deaths.

Clarke tries to cling on to the last vestiges of composure she has remaining.

“Gonna work on my tan for a little bit.”

The pout returns and she laughs, “Soon!”

Grabbing the tube of sunscreen from her nearby tote, she squeezes a large dollop into her palm. While Lexa does slow laps around the boat, Clarke liberally reapplies the lotion, slathering it on until all the exposed skin within reach is covered.

Before long, she hears Lexa climb the ladder onto the swim platform, accompanied by the rush of water cascading off her body as she rises out of the sea.

The soft slap of wet footfalls draws nearer.

“Lex?” Clarke twists around. “Could you do my—”

She stalls mid-sentence, only cognizant of her fingers closing hard around the tube in her hand when a spurt of lotion shoots out, splattering across her thigh and the towel.

She doesn’t even flinch.

All Clarke can do is gape and stare, watching rivulets of water run down the slope of Lexa’s bare chest. Eyes drawn inexorably to taut nipples and golden skin that glistens under the sun, to the long, lean lines of Lexa and the scrap of luminous orange fabric that sits low on her hips.

Clarke’s belly tightens, arousal flaring hot between her legs.

(A voice in her head that sounds disturbingly like Wells tells her to close her mouth.)

She has to remind herself to breathe.

Is thankful for the oversized shades that partially mask her expression, because she isn’t in control of what her face is doing right now. But if Lexa’s lip-bitten smile is any indication, it’s a lost cause anyway.

Casually wringing the water out of her hair as she approaches, Lexa glances at the milky white streak on Clarke’s inner thigh.

“Not the first time I’ve made a girl squirt.”

Clarke mutters a sarcastic “ha ha”, rubs the lotion into her skin, then wipes her hands on the edge of the towel before she reclines again. She fakes nonchalance when Lexa sinks down beside her, but it’s impossible to ignore the butterflies.

She rolls her shoulders and stares at the sky above, fixating on the solitary vapour trail that cuts across the endless blue.

“Speaking of previous liaisons... do you bring all your conquests here?” She’s mostly kidding, but there’s an undercurrent of needing to know too. She peers at Lexa. “Or am I one of the lucky few?”

A slow shake of Lexa’s head before she leans over on her elbow, closing in and partially blocking the sun, and Clarke’s skepticism must be plain to see, because Lexa looks so intensely sincere now, no trace of a smile or any disingenuousness when she says: “It’s the truth, I swear.”

Still, Clarke has her doubts. There’s no way Lexa isn’t tripping over hot women throwing themselves at her feet and this boat trip is too well-orchestrated not to be a tried and tested seduction technique.

Clarke peels off her shades to look Lexa square in the eye, and that frank, steady gaze pierces straight through her.

“I mean it, Clarke.”

The space between them shrinks.

Lexa’s pupils dilate as her focus shifts to parted lips. “You’re special.”

Water drips off the ends of Lexa’s hair onto Clarke’s shoulder and chest, and whatever rebuttal she had dies in her throat. She’s the one to reach out, gripping Lexa by the neck to tug her the rest of the way and kiss her like Clarke’s been dreaming of all morning.

As soon as Lexa throws a long leg over Clarke to straddle her, knees bracketing her hips, she needs no further convincing.

It’s on.

She dips her tongue inside Lexa’s mouth and slides both hands up Lexa’s rib cage to cup her breasts, a shiver running through Clarke when she feels the hard poke of nipples against her palms. She kneads, and the low, throaty noise it earns her sets her nerves alight, warm tingles suffusing her body.

They kiss deeply, greedily.

They kiss until Clarke has to drag her mouth away to gulp down some air, only to have the oxygen punched out of her lungs once again when Lexa uses the opportunity to shove her bikini bottoms off, scoop her mane of wet hair to one side and resettle against Clarke’s thigh. With her hands planted on either side of Clarke’s shoulders, Lexa holds herself up as she starts to work along the tensed muscle.

The slick, molten feel of Lexa, sliding against her skin, riding Clarke, makes her burn. She lurches up into the next kiss, hungrily reclaiming Lexa’s mouth, urging her on with a grip on her ass, and that shaky little hitch of breath in the back of Lexa’s throat whenever the friction gets her just right succeeds in getting Clarke wetter and wetter too. At this rate, she might come before Lexa does, and the odds only increase when Lexa takes Clarke’s hand and guides it between her legs.

“Use your fingers.”

Another surge of heat floods through Clarke at the instruction, hearing the normally smooth, modulated tone of Lexa’s voice roughed by need.

Clarke studies Lexa’s face, watching for the tiny flickers of reaction as she runs her fingers lower, fascinated by each and every twitch and jolt and slight gasp as she explores. She dips in and drags the wetness up to swirl around Lexa’s clit and is rewarded by the sharp jerk of Lexa’s hips and quite possibly the dirtiest kiss of Clarke’s entire life. She needs no prompting to slide through slick heat to tease at Lexa’s entrance again, fingertips doing a couple of slow swirls before she pauses.

For a beat they remain suspended in a freeze frame of anticipation. Each holding still, a breath caught in their throats.

On the exhale Clarke pushes inside.

And fuck, she missed this. Touching yourself is great and all, empowering, fantastic for stress relief, et cetera. But nothing beats the sound another woman makes when you enter her for the first time, when you hear that shaky intake of breath and you feel her clench around your fingers.

“Good?” Clarke asks.

Lexa nods, bottom lip held between her teeth as she looks down at Clarke with hooded eyes, the green of her irises nearly eclipsed by black.

Part of Clarke can’t quite believe this is her reality. That she’s buried to the knuckles and Lexa is moving on her, rolling to meet the steady pump of her wrist.

She glances between their bodies and a groan escapes, another sharp twist of lust coiling in the pit of her stomach once her eyes fasten on her own two fingers coated with Lexa’s arousal, fucking into her. But Clarke pries her eyes away, roving over tight abdominals, taking in the curves of Lexa’s tits and the jut of her nipples, torn between wanting them in her mouth and watching her fingers disappear inside again.

It’s Lexa’s half-stifled whimper when Clarke’s thumb finds her clit that sharpens her focus.

Winding her arm around Lexa’s lower back, Clarke sits them upright and swiftly brings their lips together. The abrupt change of angle has Lexa gasping hotly into her mouth. Again, louder, when Clarke’s palm rubs in. Lexa grips her by the shoulder and the back of her neck, blunt nails digging in as Lexa grinds down harder, faster, speeding towards the climax—the first of many, if Clarke has her way—sucking in short, sharp gasps while Clarke keeps pace, despite it being hell on her wrist.

They’re hardly kissing at all now, mouths hanging slack and sharing the same air, noses pressing into cheeks as they pant against one another’s lips.

She soon feels the first flutters, the growing tension in Lexa’s form, the choppy motion of Lexa’s hips and the careless scratch of her nails at Clarke’s nape. She curls the tips of her fingers on each partial drag out then slams back in, lifting Lexa an inch off her lap with each thrust. Clarke keeps the heel of her palm tight against Lexa’s clit, the pressure firm and constant, and in the next collection of halting, rapid breaths, Lexa’s whole frame pulls taut. A ragged cry is torn from her throat and she clenches hard, coming in a hot spill around Clarke’s fingers. Lexa shudders through it, a tremble in her jaw when she catches Clarke’s mouth in a fierce, bruising kiss, licking into her with a groan that makes Clarke gush in turn.

They remain in a heavy lip lock long after the tremors subside, neither inclined to separate. Restless hands weave through Clarke’s hair then seek out her curves, roaming down her chest with purpose, pushing under the top half of her swimsuit. She gives a low hum of approval when Lexa’s thumbs roll over the tight tips of her nipples, the ache mirrored in the dull, pulsing emptiness between her legs.

She feels close to orgasm already, like if she got even the tiniest bit of friction she’d go off like a rocket. Just a small shift of her hand to grind against her own knuckles would do it. But the way Lexa is touching her breasts, palms running all over, teasing her nipples into stiff, hypersensitive points, might be enough to get Clarke there.

And all the while, she’s still inside Lexa. Fucking her lazily with slow presses of her fingers, incapable of much more vigour when her wrist is screaming. She’s debating what to do next, whether to withdraw and flip Lexa onto her back for round two or continue like this, when a distant droning noise intrudes, faintly audible above the gentle lap of water, the thick, wet squelch of Clarke’s hand working between Lexa’s thighs, and their combined heavy breathing.

Growing more distracted by the second, Clarke draws her mouth away. She squints at the horizon beneath the shade of her free hand while warm lips meander along her jaw and down her neck.

She ceases her movements, despite Lexa’s meaningful buck of her hips and the subsequent small growl of complaint when Clarke fails to take the hint.

“What’s—” Teeth nip at the fading hickey on her throat and she gasps, hand flying to tangle in Lexa’s damp, curling hair. But as the object begins to resolve itself, Clarke tenses for a different reason. “Is that a boat?”

Lexa abandons her sulk to look too.

A white shape is rapidly approaching, throwing up sea spray, sunlight glinting off the surface and the waves and making it difficult to discern from this distance until… oh. Oh, yeah.

Letting out a string of (presumably) expletives in her native tongue, Lexa scrambles off Clarke to scoop up the clothes strewn across the deck. She pulls on her tank top, yanks the shorts up her legs, and has just enough time to arrange herself into a casual pose beside Clarke before the other boat reaches them. The occupants are obnoxiously young; late teens or early twenties, as far as Clarke can tell from a distance; a bunch of bikini-clad girls and lanky guys in board shorts hanging off one another as music blasts.

She sighs inwardly. Grits her teeth and refrains from giving them the middle finger while they whoop and cheer in passing, beer bottles held aloft as they thunder towards the wooden jetty.

So much for the sexy beach idyll. Clearly, not everyone has such reverence for the tranquility of this spot.

“Shall we stay a while or…?” Clarke hedges.

Lexa purses her lips and casts her stormy gaze around, jaw working side to side in rotation, but a gentle touch on her leg pulls her focus back to Clarke.

Consternation softens into regret.

“You didn’t even get a chance to swim or feel the sand between your toes.”

“I’ll cope. Besides…” Clarke wets her lips and drops into a huskier register. “It wasn’t a total bust.”

Lexa’s mouth twitches, clearly fighting a smile, and to Clarke that’s a win.

“Come on, don’t let these pesky teens ruin our hot date,” she continues in a playful tone. “I bet you have a few aces up your sleeve; other favourite haunts to wow the ladies with.”

One shoulder lifts in a slight shrug. “We do have the boat for the rest of the day. I could take you somewhere else. For lunch, if you’re hungry yet?”

Clarke gives a noncommittal hum, lightly trailing her wet fingers along the soft skin of Lexa’s inner thigh. “I could eat.”

The suggestive undertone isn’t lost in translation. Their eyes meet and Clarke dares to make it explicit.

“But lunch wasn’t what I had in mind… unless we’re counting pussy as a food group.”

Lexa loses the battle against keeping her smile under control. The tips of her ears are tinged pink. “Are Americans always so forward?”

“Um, I don’t recall any shyness on your part two nights ago.”

Dainty little ears burn brightly while Lexa’s smile grows, becoming toothier, and Clarke just wants to smooch that perfect face all day long.

“Anyway, I prefer the term ‘go-getter.’ As in, I see someone I want and I go get her.”

A pained groan. “I should leave you stranded on the beach for that.”

“Hey!” Clarke swats at Lexa’s knee in retaliation, but Lexa catches her hand, holding it captive. Clarke sniffs for dramatic effect. “I was going to let you strip me out of this bathing suit later, but now I’m strongly reconsidering.”

“If it helps sway your decision, I’d definitely appreciate seeing you naked again.”

“And how would you show your gratitude?”

“Mm. At least three times, and maybe twice more with the strap if you’re into toys.”

God.

“Okay. Alright. Well, lucky for you, I’m kind of dying for you to fuck me so I guess that clinches it.”

It’s about as far from playing it cool as could be, but Clarke doesn’t care. The truth is she’s soaked, aching for relief, and she isn’t picky about whichever method Lexa might use to get her off, as long as it happens soon.

Eyes flashing dark, Lexa cups a hand behind Clarke’s neck and pulls her mouth to hers. Clarke reacts without thought, already opening up to accept the slide of Lexa’s tongue before her brain catches up and she remembers they’re not alone.

Cracking an eye open, she’s relieved to see nobody on the other boat appears to be paying them any attention. She attempts to evade the next kiss, only for Lexa to pursue it more doggedly, and that makes Clarke smile even as she lays a palm on Lexa’s chest to gently hold off her advance. The mini pout on Lexa’s face when they pull apart is a treat, and Clarke can’t conceal her enjoyment of it. Unable to resist the lure, she steals one final peck.

For a few indulgent seconds, she luxuriates in the softness of Lexa’s full bottom lip, until it dawns on her that an hour-long return journey stands between them and more orgasms, and she sighs.

“Why isn’t teleportation a real thing yet? Having to wait a full 60 minutes to get you under me is so unfair.”

Slowly, with the greatest delicacy and patience, Lexa brushes their noses together, one side then the other, nudging the tip before she withdraws. Despite the sun beating down on her back, it gives Clarke chills, shivers running down her neck and arms. For the duration she just holds still and melts while her stomach flips, and the butterflies that had lain dormant return in full force.

When she opens her eyes, she’s greeted by the slight, sloping smile on Lexa’s lips and her stomach does another somersault.

“I’m starting to think you’re only interested in me for sex,” Lexa says lightly.

Clarke lets out a small scoff. “You’re the one with a one-track mind. I was minding my own business, soaking up the rays, until you pounced.”

“Can you blame me?”

Lexa’s heated stare roves over several inches of cleavage before she forcibly drags her eyes back up.

“Actually… I have a confession to make.” She draws that plush bottom lip, still slightly swollen and red from kissing, between her teeth. “I dropped a tray of drinks at work yesterday because I had a flashback to you sitting on my face. Anya yelled at me and I didn’t even give a fuck that she deducted it from my tips.”

Heat rises in Clarke’s cheeks, triggered by her own vivid recollection of events. She won’t forget it in a hurry and she’s flattered to hear it was just as memorable for Lexa too. But also, it feels like a point of pride that she made Lexa’s cool girl veneer slip, even if she wasn’t there to witness it in person.

“Now I feel partly responsible for this tragic loss of earnings and broken glassware.”

“I said you were trouble.”

They inch closer, eyes glued to lips, their breath hot on one another’s faces.

“How can I make it up to you?” Clarke asks.

“I have some ideas.”

Her mind can’t help going to the aforementioned strap.

All smiles, they surrender to the magnetic pull. The world around them recedes. There’s only Lexa’s mouth on hers, soft yet urgent, and the tingles that erupt all over, Clarke’s pulse accelerating when long fingers thread into her hair again.

And it’s sublime.

Close to perfection.

She can almost hear the swell of imaginary violins soundtracking the moment—until a smattering of shrill wolf whistles pierces through the bliss.

The kiss breaks on a huff of shared, quiet laughter. Clarke’s eyes slide across to the jetty, where they’re being enthusiastically toasted by their neighbours. She groans and drops her forehead to Lexa’s shoulder, breathing in the saltwater, sun-warmed scent of her before showing her face again.

“I believe that’s our cue to leave,” Clarke says.

The long, lidded look Lexa favours her with, eyes shaded darker by desire and the hint of some deeper emotion that feels altogether too big, too soon to acknowledge, has Clarke battling the urge to launch herself at Lexa’s lips again, regardless of the unwanted spectators nearby.

“Keep that up, Lex, and they might really have something to holler about—and possibly livestream on the internet.”

A faint smile reappears. “What am I doing, Clarke?”

“Looking. Giving me those” - she gestures vaguely - “eyes.”

It loosens a small laugh. Lexa lowers her gaze and Clarke regrets mentioning it now, because it feels like the sun momentarily disappearing behind the clouds when Lexa’s thrilling, singular focus isn’t on her.

“I didn’t say I didn’t like it.”

Lexa looks up, and the restored eye contact makes Clarke’s blood pump faster.

She lets out the breath she was holding. “Maybe I like it more than I should, considering.”

“Considering…?”

“I won’t be here next week.”

Pragmatic; matter-of-fact. A reality check and a casual reminder they both need to hear before they throw themselves headlong into… whatever this thing is between them: it has an expiration date.

In the lull, Lexa scans every millimetre of Clarke’s face and she hopes the nerves don’t show through the front she’s putting on.

After a moment, the corner of Lexa’s mouth lifts into a smirk, but it seems slightly forced. Her eyes are more pebbly, neutral grey than green. “Then let’s make sure you have good memories to take home with you.”

#vacation au #cool for the summer #clexa fic #my fic

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devieuls · 1 year

Text

ˋ Jealousy .

Neteyam Sully x Metkayina Reader ( ONE SHOT )

Synopsis : When the game of love becomes a double-edged sword, jealousy turns into a consuming force. After months of back and forth between you and Neteyam, his jealousy reaches its climax when you decide to make you want and openly flirt with one of his friends, tormenting him mercilessly. Trapped in a spiral of conflicting emotions, Neteyam will have to confront his inner demons and find out if the desire of possession can ever be love. In an explosion of conflicting feelings that will inevitably lead both of you to bask in each other, consumed by the fire of passion after the spark of jealousy caused by your behavior.

Warning : SMUT MDNI !Explicit sex! - Bites, oral sex, canines, hickeys, unprotected sex, outdoor sex, dirty talk, foreplay, dacryphilia, rude sex…

Lenght : 7.8k

NETEYAM: 21 y.o / Y/N: 19 y.o (dress)

NA'VI WORDS : TANHI: Star / Bioluminescent freckles; YAWNE: Beloved YAWNETU: Loved one

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The eclipse was beginning on the horizon, tinging the sky with pinkish shades, while the last rays of light danced on the sea surface of Metkayina beach. The flames danced animatedly around the bonfire, crackling with an ancestral melody that filled the air, creating an intimate and relaxing atmosphere, while the sound of the sea became increasingly enveloping. Your group of friends sat in a circle on the warm sand, the faces illuminated by the eclipse that began to welcome Pandora’s night. The sky was tinged with shades of purple and bluish, while the sun slowly plunged into the sea, leaving behind a trail of sparkling reflections. Every now and then, the song of a seagull echoed in the air, accompanied by the call of other sea creatures. The waves broke gently on the beach, bringing with them small fragments of shells and algae, which the feet of those present caressed lightly. The smell of salt and wet sand mixed with the pungent smell of wood burnt by fire. Your voices resounded in the air, intertwined in a lively chorus of laughter and tales, while Aonung carried some alcohol taken from the marui of the provisions. Your friends exchanged stories of past adventures, future dreams, new and lost loves, while you tried not to pay too much attention to love stories, knowing you were in a strange situation with Neteyam.

It’s been months since you and Neteyam have been pulling and dropping the rope, like your feelings are just something to pass the time with and not something concrete. You flirted, you spent time together, you talked a lot and it was clear that there was alchemy between you, too bad neither of you had ever bothered to declare or to formalize something, remaining friends, yes, but "not only". You hated that feeling of stalemate, where you waited because even if you mentioned the thing life seemed to lead you to not finish the whole sentence. Neteyam also spent time with other girls, knowing full well that you felt something towards him, almost playing with this too, pushing your buttons until you collapse and completely let go of the rope. The boys who courted you certainly did not miss, you were considered the 'pearl' of the Metkayina clan for a reason, coveted by most of the warriors or young men of the clan to become their companion. Among these men was also Aonung, the son of the Olo'eyktan, who had been raving about you for years now, trying to win you over, but never really succeeding, because of you. But that night you decided to change the cards on the table, to play the same game as Neteyam, intolerant of your overt jealousy when he stayed with other women, beginning to become a little more intimate with Aonung, giving him the chance he’d been waiting for for years now.

Neteyam looked at you from a distance as he saw you walking in the opposite direction to his, where Aonung was sitting with some stolen booze, sharing it with his companions. You approached the boy’s ear, making sure you were perfectly under the watchful eye of Neteyam as you did so, starting to speak to Aonung. You sat next to him while you smiled brazenly, immediately eliminating the minimum distance between your body and that of young Metkayina. You laid your hands on his shoulder, continuing to speak to his ear, while he did the same to you, exchanging complicit glances and fascinated smiles. Neteyam peered at you, sitting silently on the other side of the bonfire along with some friendships he had made in the clan, as he felt a feeling of jealousy he began to burn inside him, struggling to contain the anger that was emerging. He twitched his innervated jaw as his eyes gazed intensely at the scene, feeling the bitter taste of jealousy on his tongue, but he forced himself to smile and appear distant, even though he is slowly breaking inside. He kept a calm appearance, trying to concentrate on his friends and the stories they were telling, pretending not to pay too much attention to them, even if in the long run his annoyance was evident. His mind, however, was filled with thoughts in turmoil, finding the strength not to get up and break the septum of his friend when he saw his hand resting undisturbed on your thigh.

You smiled at Aonung with a playful air, tilting your head slightly to the side as you exchanged little jokes you passed your fingers on his arm and then on his neck or loose curls, maintaining a subtle but obvious physical connection. Your giggles and jokes filled the air, making it heavy for Neteyam’s already saturated lungs. Every gesture, every look or joke you made was calculated to generate a sense of jealousy in the guy you really cared about. Your words are charged with a magnetic energy as you flirt with Aonung in a casual yet seductive way; aware of the power you were having over Neteyam, who had been playing this game for too long on his own, having fun bringing out his annoyance. After about an hour Neteyam surrendered to jealousy, unable to bear to see you so attached to another boy. He hated to see your body too exposed to seek physical contact with that of Aonung who certainly did not deny it, but rather, did even more than he should. The eyes of the Na'vi wandered with hunger on your body, as if you were something that he would eat soon after and then throw or reuse until you were ruined or he tired. And so, like a poisoned arrow, reality crept into Neteyam’s heart, making his blood bitter. He was only able to absorb the frustration as he got up, being stopped almost immediately by Lo'ak who was at his side and was aware of your many childish games. "Bro, you can’t stop her from doing the same thing you did to her." Lo'ak’s voice was sincere, too sincere, while the grip on his brother’s wrist prevented him from doing shit. Neteyam was bubbling, his skin was burning, and his jaw was contracting from nervousness, as if he hadn’t started that game. "Lo'ak. You better let me go. I swear, I won’t do anything." He said turning to him, the frustrated smile still on his face, but with the difference that Lo'ak knew his brother better than anyone else. He let him go. He knew that holding him back was just a way to break that subtle balance that still kept a hidden side he didn’t like to show, that contained an aspect of himself he hated to admit he had. Possession.

His steps were heavy and fast, his feet sinking into the wet sand leaving deep traces. Neteyam had stiff shoulders and a palpable wrath on his face. His eyes shone with anger and jealousy, while his breathless breath echoed in the tranquillity of the night. The full moon illuminated his path, bringing out the furious waves of her dark hair moving to the rhythm of his determined steps. The boy’s hands were tight fists, the knuckles white from tension. You noticed him out of the corner of your eye, letting a mischievous smile out, and a defiant nod shone in your eyes, knowing that your plan was working. Knowing that you had managed to bring Neteyam to a breaking point, where even his calm had found shelter away from him, and this expanded your satisfaction. Your confidence and ability to flirt with Aonung created ambivalent situations full of tension, on the one hand with sexual while on the other with pure ardent jealousy. You enjoyed finally having the power, playing with the desire and jealousy of your 'him', because he had to be 'him'. Him or nobody. So playing this dirty game only helped you get to the much-coveted prize, not taking into account the fact that every action has a reaction, so you will have to deal with the consequences of your choices. The waves were crashing hard on the coast, as if responding to his inner fury. The sound of the sea mixed with the sound of his footsteps, creating a symphony of tumultuous emotions, giving voice to his tacit jealousy. You were amazed when he put on one of the greatest masks you’ve seen, looking almost peaceful and natural. His slower steps and his calm breath, though his aura remained poisonous and pointed. The sea seemed to follow his mood once again.

Neteyam passed behind you, surpassing Aonung’s body, then slipping his hand over your shoulder and then around your neck. Swallow silently as you feel his thumb caress the line of your jawline, as he pulled your neck back slightly, slamming your head against his lower abdomen. You broke away from Aonung without even wanting it, while silently the grip around your neck strengthened the right to let out from your lips a choked breath. "Ma Tanhì" his gentle voice, with a bitter aftertaste that weighed down your thoughts. "May I have a word with you, please?" He went on, completely ignoring Aonung who was watching your interaction, annoyed. "Can you give us a minute? Aonung and I-" He stopped you even before you could finish the sentence, bending over your ear, without taking your hand from your soft flesh, weakening your voice. "Y/n. Baby, don’t make me mad. Get your sweet ass out of here and follow me before I make you regret even coming here dressed like this." He growled low in your ear, making you shiver down your spine. A quiver made its way between your legs, taking you to tighten them instantly. Neteyam’s hand let you go and you started breathing regularly, swallowing while you tried to suppress the pleasure of being taken that way by your 'him' and by how he had obviously shaken your strong and decisive tone. He took a few steps back, waiting for you to get up, not knowing that you wanted to keep pulling the strings a little longer.

"Kalin, what’s going on? Do you have to leave?" Aonung maliciously asked you, with a mocking tone as a smirk unfolded on his face, thinning his eyes. His hand was placed between your hair, as he moved some curls behind your ear, approaching you. You looked at him, biting your lip, giving him clear signals that clearly you didn’t mind what he was doing. "No, I don’t." You said, turning your back on Neteyam. Neteyam looked at you with a smirk for the boldness in which you had posed your challenge, almost offending him. He approached you again, taking you hard from your jaw, turning you completely in his direction, pressing his lips on yours. His free hand went to take Aonung’s fingers out of your hair and then create a new grip there.

Your lips brushed rough, exploring the contours of your mouths, before venturing deeper. His tongue entered your mouth shamelessly, savoring and sucking it with pleasure, almost knotting it and weaving it with uncontrollable hunger, creating a symphony of thrilling sensations. You blushed to think that this was the first kiss you exchanged with Neteyam, never getting to this part in the months you were just flirting. The tip of his tongue grazed yours, pushing and chasing yours like an erotic dance and thought as slow. Each movement was charged with possession and desire, creating a succession of frantic pulsations between your legs. The spasms of pleasure spread through your mouth, panting heavily as the boy created a deep and carnal connection, guiding you on a one-way journey into true ecstasy, an ever more intimate discovery of your most hidden desires. Neteyam wanted to show how his tongue possessed yours, not ashamed to make you pant for the air you were losing and your blush. His tongue came out of your mouth only when he felt fully satisfied by Aonung’s upset reaction, savoring your lips again before they came off, leaving a thread of saliva that still joined you. You blush more, feeling all the power accumulated with your game crumble in seconds. You gasped as you caught your breath and covered your mouth with your hand, cutting the thread that connected you two.

Pride. Pride and Possession. These were the feelings that Neteyam laid two fingers under your chin, looking you in the eye as you looked so helpless and embarrassed. He smiled at you brazenly, showing his lovely canines as he saw something in you had slightly broken, feeling Aonung’s burning, silent gaze. Around you it was as if everyone had turned to look at you in shock, not really believing what they had just seen.

"I told you to get off your ass and follow me. Why do you always make everything so difficult, yawntutsyìp?" He blew his words with a mocking tone on the hand that still covered your mouth, and then took you and dragged you behind some rocks, away from everything and everyone, where not even the crackling of the bonfire was heard anymore. You followed him in silence as you touched your lips in disbelief, your eyes still open and upset, not really being able to conceive of the fact that he really did what he did. "You kissed me… You kissed me in front of everyone… y-you" you whispered breathlessly, while your back scratched against some rocks because of the body of Neteyam that immobilized you and took away every way to escape, leaning your hand on the sides of your body on the rock. "Damn it, yeah. I did. And you loved it so much," he growled at you, feeling so small in that moment, vulnerable. He approached your ear, taking long deep breaths, trying to suppress the anger caused by your behavior. "I’m tired of these fucking games, y/n. You know I want you and you know you want me. Then why the hell did you let Aonung touch you? Why his hand was on your thigh and his eyes were on your breast. Shit, ngatsyìp. You don’t know how long I had to hold on to not break his hands and claw his eyes out." His voice always lower and hoarse, accompanied by snarls and hisses annoyed, first hitting the bundle of nerves between your legs than your ears. You looked away, taking some breaths and then being forced by his hand to look at him. "You look me in the eye when we talk. Ok. What? You don’t feel so strong playing with fire anymore?" he said mocking you, biting your lip violently.

"I just played your game…" you whispered so much that the sea breeze took your words away before they reached Neteyam’s ears. Your heart kept pounding in your ears while trying to realize the situation. "Voice, baby. I thought you had it before. Raise your voice well with me" he said growling at you, causing you to gasp heavily. His free hand washed away the invisible marks Aonung had left on your body, hating how your natural smell was mixed with another man’s. "I said. I just played your game. Now you’re jealous of something you started?" You found the courage to fight back with a tone worthy of yourself, which still made you feel remotely respected by yourself. "That's my girl. Hmhm Jealous? Jealousy isn’t enough, sweetie." he replied in a low, threatening voice. "If I was just jealous, I would have just tamed you later. Now it’s not enough, I want to see how your pride and respect fades from your eyes for me. Make you beg for forgiveness, cuz you belong to me, only to me." He replied with an asshole smile as the tips of his fingers rose along your thigh slowly, coming under your loincloth. You gasped, feeling the blush hit your cheeks again "Can you hear me? just me. Mine alone." concluded before pressing both hands on your hips and waist. His lips touching your jaw before they were on your neck. You could feel your heart rumbling in your chest as your body temperature reached levels of warmth you never imagined. His rough touch made you shudder and get goosebumps, while your silky skin scratched against the rocks, making you wince.

"Tamed? You think you can tame me like this?" You whispered and then panted when his soft lips snapped to start working on your neck, alternating wet kisses with bites. He laughed raucously, gripping your body. "You think you can’t be tamed? I’ve tamed animals bigger and more dangerous than you, Tanhì. But I don’t just want to tame you, baby. I want to break you." His voice easily cut through those security wires you held so close to you. You clenched your teeth as you searched for words that were missing and that were erased in your mind by the body of the Omatikayan. "I am not an Ikran to tame, or an Ilu, Neteyam" you said as your voice died again in your throat, feeling his hands press every inch of your body poorly covered. The idea of being 'tamed' by Neteyam seemed to you an idea too tempting for your uncleanness of mind. "Baby. There’s a difference between taming an animal and claiming what’s rightfully yours. I claim what’s mine, y/n. And you’re fucking mine. I own you." He growled on your neck as one of his hands slid behind your back, following your bear spine, exploring your curves, satisfied to hear you tremble under his touch. "I try to be good to you… I swear" He started again, his warm, slow voice sending impulses all over your body, as he untied the knot of your loincloth slowly, feeling the chills when the sea breeze and a few drops of waves wet your skin because of the rocks. "But you don’t listen to me…" your loincloth now on the ground, leaving your bundle of nerves exposed before him. "You make it so difficult. And you like to see me angry with this" his rough hands explored your body with curiosity and desire, leaving nothing untouched.

He easily tore off the top of the strings that covered your breasts, leaving you completely naked under him, making you blush while in the distance you still heard the buzz of some of your friends talking. Neteyam came down to your collarbones, and then came down to your breasts and took your red, hard nipple in your mouth, starting to brush one with your tongue. " I’ll tame you one way or another, ma yawne," he said as he held your breast in his mouth, sucking your raging buds, bringing one of his hands to do the same job. "And it’s so easy that you’ll beg for more…" his voice was a seductive whisper that sends shocks to your brain. "… and I’ll give it to you." moaned while working your breasts "again…" sucked slightly making you arch your back against his face. "and again. Until you’re drunk on me." His warm breath hit the swollen tip of your breasts, while his malevolent tongue knew perfectly how to do it job. He got slightly annoyed when you began to wriggle slightly because of the pleasure, and his knee ended between your legs, pressing the surface against your inner thigh. He pinched your nipple greedily with his teeth as he swirled his tongue around your bud. Your hand ended up between his braids, pulling them as you sought consolation, whining slightly for the attentions that made you pump more and more blood down your belly, against your intimacy. His hand not engaged in stimulating the other breast, wrapped itself around the base of your fluffy breast, squeezing it against his mouth, while he pumped and squeezed your bud harder and harder.

"ma 'teyam…" you whispered with a thread of voice as you tried to wriggle, feeling the friction between his body and the wet rocks, which made you wince. You stared at Neteyam’s face, his sharp features illuminated by some rays of dim light and his bright tanhì dusted on his cheeks. He smiled maliciously as he released your breasts, licking it one last time before holding hands on your butt, Your breasts pressed against the damp and rough rock, sending you electric shocks all over your body while he pressed his veiled erection on your ass. Your breasts pressed against the moist and rough rock, sending you electric shocks all over your body while he pressed his masculinity on your ass, making you shake your legs. You bit your lip as you felt your intimacy pulsating and becoming increasingly wet, accumulating all the excitement that made you want to have more, to feel more. His fingers slipped on your exposed backside as he admired you bent to ninety just for his pleasure. One of the two hands followed your chills as far as you needed them most, beginning to gently caress your dripping folds. "Oh, you’re so wet for some nipple play? You’re so pretty, yawne. This Aonung wouldn’t let you try it, would he?" He said as he bent over you, talking to your ear, as his fingers rubbed between your folds, playing slightly with your clitoris. He pinched, pulled and stroked it rough while you whimpered with pleasure against the wet rock. "Do you like it? You want more, don’t you baby? I know you want it" He laughed raucously against your ear, while his fingers only played superficially, not entering as you would have liked. "Yes," you whispered in your breath, biting your lip. "Beg me, Tanhì. Show me how much you want it. How much you want me." You blushed at his words. You wouldn’t have begged, you wanted to, but you still cared about dignity, and he realized that. His touch gradually became more absent, as you moved your hips in despair in the hope of hearing more without yielding to his request.

You wince when Neteyam wrapped a hand around your neck, making you bend your back as he carried you slightly closer to him, and then feel his hand slam against your buttock with enough force that you were almost sure it would leave its mark. It didn’t just hurt, you liked it. A submissive moan came out of your lips as you squeezed your eyes holding back some tears. "I said 'beg'. It wasn’t a request, baby. It’s an order" he growled in a tone you found more exciting than he should have. You bit your lip, then decided to fuck off your pride when a second spanking slammed against your ass before being tight. "Please…" you whispered with a thread of voice, meowing because of the spanking, his hard dick still pressed against you and the hand wrapped around your neck that made you feel shivers all over your body. "Beg harder, Yawne. I want to feel it properly" His fingers sank into your skin, your hips, your waist, your neck and your breasts, alternating between the areas to touch. Your whining and pleading was music to his ears, even better than a juicy yovo fruit on a hot day. He wanted to push you to your limit, and in a way, he was taming you for him, making you cry and beg for something he had already decided to give you, just for the sake of feeling you submissive. His hand tightened more around your neck, licking his lips when he heard your words. "Please Neteyam… More." You growled with clenched teeth, you didn’t have the psychophysical strength to resist Neteyam’s bastard games.

"Ma Yawne, I happen to have heard something like 'more'. Be more specific." Neteyam smiled a diabolical smile as he walked away from you, leaving you bent over and needing him. You felt a warmth invade your face, at other times you would be ashamed, but you wanted to feel it inside you. You had a taste of his covered dick against your ass and you wanted to feel it yours, to taste it and use it at your own pace, feeling somehow that his was not like the others. "I guess I have to leave you like this until I get the proper pleading. Without that obnoxious growl, baby" His mocking tone made you shudder as you got back on your feet, slightly wobbly. Neteyam’s masculine scent collided against your nose, sending you into more heat than before, feeling the overwhelming urge to ride it. You approached him and pressed your bare breasts against his chest, as a hand slowly descended along his sculpted abdomen, placing your fingers on the surface of his loincloth. You began to press the cloth down, as its smell made your tail move quickly and your nose curl to accommodate more. "Neteyam. We both know what I want, and so do you" You whispered against his skin, feeling his hot eyes on you. You felt a small gasp when your hand found its way inside the loincloth, caressing the hard flesh that covered so much. "So please… Please. Just do it."

Your gaze met his vibrant golden eyes as he watched you from above, letting you shove him on the sand with a smile, before you sat on his belly and felt the sand scratch against your knees. Neteyam took you from the choker necklace you were wearing and carried you on his lips, replicating the passionate kiss he gave you before taking you away. His bruised hands on your skin as he squeezed the soft, velvety flesh, while only one of yours went into your hair, creating a foothold. You welcomed his warm tongue again, as your heavy breaths mingled in your mouth, leaving some panting while you unhooked the loincloth knot, impatiently removing it. You embraced his hardened dick between your folds, creating only friction without letting it in, feeling it only between your already wet lips. The submissive growl that he left in your mouth made you pant, stimulating a point in your brain that cried out to let him in, to feel him inside you. Your hips kept swaying back and forth as you lubricated the Neteyam muscle with your humors. You felt the pulse of Neteyam’s lateral vein collide with your bundle of nerves and you pounded from the boy’s warm lips to look down, gasping and hissing slightly. You bit your lip as you saw the tiny bioluminescent freckles on his sex, watching as his tip had become slightly reddish, overbearing and angry as precum dripped out due to rubbing against your legs.

Neteyam’s eyes did not come away from you for a second, biting his lip as he watched you almost remain hypnotized by his member and blush almost feeling his mouth. He laughed raucously as he took warm breaths, still feeling you throbbing against his skin, then putting a hand under your chin and stroking your swollen lips, meeting your heavenly eyes. "What’s up, baby? Are you that hungry?" asked in a mocking tone, as he bent his head to the side, letting his pigtails slip over his shoulder. You nodded silently, starting to get drunk of his smell, of his touch. "You can take it. It's all yours." He told you with confidence, noticing how your eyes were pleading. "I don’t…" You blushed when you couldn’t find a way to tell him you’d never had oral sex. The sex among the native Na'vi was more rough, wild and devoid of particularities such as foreplay or the various games that could be played in the process. For this reason it had never occurred to you that a man’s manhood could be taken to other places besides your intimacy. "Baby, have you ever had a blowjob?" He asked bluntly, as he looked for your slightly embarrassed look, immediately realizing that like many other Na'vi he had been with, you had never experienced oral sex. "Oh, you never did…" he said in a mischievous tone as he gripped your hair before leading you down. Now that he knew your mouth were virgin, he felt excited to be the first of all. The idea of having your mouth before anyone else made him particularly happy and his sex, like his tail, seemed to give voice to his pride. "Fine. I’ll teach you how to please me" he said in a low voice.

You started to come down, slowly, savoring every inch of his skin that had a salty aftertaste. Your mouth passed over his chest, falling lower and lower as his hand guided you from his hair. He briefly left you when you arrived on his naked hip, going down with your lips up to his testicles, until he took back the grip in your curly hair and carried you on his sex, ready to be welcomed by your warmth. Your tongue flowed along its entire length, seeking approval in his eyes, seeing him already clench his jaw, making you understand that you had started well. You wrapped its hardness, feeling it already hot and moist, beating against your tongue as its precum pinched the taste buds with a strong and fresh taste. You started to lick the bittersweet liquid as his hand began to make you understand the mechanism of that new game. You made slow movements up and down, enjoying every breathless breath, every hissing and growling softly. His eyes closed as his head bent backwards, noticing the contraction of his abdomen as his tip slowly touched a low point in your throat, and when he felt he had touched your fluffy tonsils he opened his eyes at a snap, letting out a small growl. "Ma Eywa… You’re already so good for me," he said in a gasping voice, intrinsic to pleasure and desire. You watched him enjoy your mouth, unable to stop your thing from slamming into the sand because of the strong excitement that caused you to see it that way.

His golden eyes shone with their own light, slightly darker and tending to green while his gaze became more predatory, thinning as he drove his head at the speed that gave him the most pleasure. You started to take a little more of his hand with the rhythm that he liked and your eyes watered when he hit so far from taking your breath and drooling on his rod, making it reach the peak of pleasure and then bring it down, until he got impatient and raised his hips to make you take his manhood soft in your mouth as much as possible. Starting to fuck your mouth and throat as you let out wet sounds due to friction. You savored it all the way, becoming almost addicted to it, trying to push yourself to where your throat was hurting too, feeling its liquid coming again straight down your throat from how bad it was. His penis getting hotter as it almost seemed to swell in your mouth, making you moan and suck to take as much as possible from his rod. "Look how well you take me, such a beautiful mouth properly used. Maybe that’s how I should shut you up when you get sassy, huh?" He said in a tone full of desire and pleasant, relaxed yet tense because of your eager pumping. Your heart increased your heart rate by accommodating your body’s reaction. You accepted it, your legs heavy as your intimacy became increasingly soggy and eager. You were tense and excited.

It was he who pulled it out of your mouth when he felt he was close, closer than when other people blew him. Your mouth, your moaning and whining had led him to feel high. Completely gone only by your inexperienced but so skillful mouth. It took you out of your hair when it came off, feeling a pop almost like when you pop a bottle and the pressure creates a whistle. "My Eywa, look at you. such a good cocksucker" Your eyes shiny, full of tears while the redness on your cheeks was evident, like the one on your lips that were now swollen and wet with saliva that fell down to your chin. You already missed Neteyam in your mouth, which he noticed just before kissing you, drawing you to him by the necklace again that now looked like a leash and your hair the rope to keep you under his will. < Tamed. > This word rang in your head like a bolt from the blue, becoming strong but superficial. Neteyam’s warm lips could make you feel drunk, influenced by anything he said. The wet, silver sand rubbed against your back when Neteyam blocked you under him, taking him in between your trembling legs, quivering with the desire to feel his member inside you. His mouth went down the line of your jaw, before reaching your ear, where he opened his lips and you felt a smile born on his face. "It wasn’t that hard to tame you, Yawne." You growled faintly at his words, finding a glimmer of clarity that reminded you that you still had some dignity to preserve. " Shh baby, don’t do this now. I just want to see you whine while you ride me just like you did while you ate my dick, hmh?" His tone was a mixture of seriousness, eroticism and teasing. He enjoyed your implicit submission and as you still tried to stick to your pride, he wanted to break you. Your drunken look was enough to keep pushing your buttons to push you over the edge, he wanted to see you lost. Broken. Ruined forever for him. Becoming your biggest addiction so that you don’t want other men besides him.

Neteyam’s mouth began to come down on your neck, leaving mouth-watering kisses on sensitive skin, sucking and biting in places where it would be difficult to hide them. His hand traced the line of your body, making the touch ever lighter as his deep breath struck your neck now wet and branded. Your back arched, wishing to feel more. Eyes opened, as you looked at the stars above you and they seemed so close to you as your body burned under its expert touch. You felt his lips glide over your entire body slowly, causing you chills of pleasure and slight fear, feeling the redness expand on your face. His warm, wet tongue fell back into your navel, his hands shaping your hips, tightening them tightly. He winced when his lips came to your Venus Mountain, not fully understanding where he was going. And then enlightenment. He would play with your intimacy just like you did with him. A thrill of pleasure ran through your body as his mouth walked the path over your sex, feeling once again those jolts hitting the height of your needy clitoris, now swollen and sensitive even just to the sea breeze. His lips embraced the pinnacle of your intimacy, slightly using your teeth, unable to fully understand what he was using because of the gust of heat that clouded your mind. A first subdued moan ran away from your lips as he began to stimulate you, not being able to understand the words he was addressing you, too deaf from that new feeling, managing only to gasp and pant. Jolts of pleasure hit your heavy hips as his hands wrapped around your thighs holding them open to avoid closing spasms that would soon arrive. The touch of his lips on your sex was vivid, you felt the pleasure accumulate with every licking in the wet folds and every eager sucker.

The back arched to the point to hurt, while some pain in the jaw and throat were felt post-fellatio. Your hand found his hair, pulling it slightly as you groaned without shame, stronger than he did and faster. The sound of the waves could no longer censor your cries of pleasure as your free hand squeezed the sand, being bathed by some bolder waves that hit you collaborating with Neteyam’s work. Your eyes were closed, tight as you tried to breathe and let the high ride you, as Neteyam blew and pumped your intimacy mercilessly, gripping your soft thighs as the spasms began. You were afraid that you were feeling so good, not knowing if you were going to make it to the top, never having had this kind of experience. Neteyam ate you rough, drinking your juices and savoring the sweetish taste of your dripping moods trickling down his lips, wetting his chin. He started tickling your entrance with his fingertips, making you angry as you pulled some braids, as if to get him out of there, feeling weak. Neteyam continued his work there, blowing and sucking the air that made you contract the uterus, leaving him amazed and hungry. He swirled his tongue once again over your clitoris, feeling like you were close to reaching the best orgasm of your life. Your hips would unwittingly push against his face as he became more rude and greedy and then feel something in you unlock, and break. You poured yourself on his face, rubbing yourself again on him as Neteyam welcomed your juice into his mouth, satisfied that he had managed to make you come so profusely. You blushed violently as you breathed faster and faster, your chest rose and lowered under the still predatory gaze of Neteyam.

You felt Neteyam’s warm, moist tip press against your still damp intimacy as you took long deep breaths and bit your lip. "Please…" you begged while you were still struggling to breathe because of the orgasm you just had. Neteyam came to look you in the eye, wanted to see the moment when you would break for him. "'Please, what, Ma yawne?" he said in a mocking tone, breathing your sweet smell, mixed with that of pheromones in bloom and your short breath. You closed your eyes turning your face to the side and he pressed between your folds. "I told you to look into my eyes, baby. Tell me what you want," his stern voice made you take your eyes back to his. You breathed deeply as one side of you kept screaming to resist, but that voice was getting so far into your mind as you felt the hot beats of Neteyam. You bit your lip, looking for words. "Just. Please. You know Neteyam…" you whispered while he pressed harder, entering you slightly before going out and sliding your moist lips into your intimacy, not entering. " Shit…"

Neteyam’s smell was intoxicating, like a dangerous drug that made you addicted to every breath or word that made you want more. Close your eyes for a moment, trying to think clearly, basking in the feeling of his sweaty chest pressed against yours. His sex pressed more and more with every damn caress, and when Neteyam’s lips met your neck, he began to torment it with wet and passionate kisses. "Say it, yawnetu… Tell me how much you want me" a kiss. "Let me hear how you feel." Now his tongue was sticking up your neck, making you wince. "You know you want it so badly…" His voice was the poison you couldn’t live without. "Say it and I’ll make you feel every inch of me" now a bite under the jaw, just below the ear. "I’ve already fucked your head, let me do the same where you really need to" He blew the words on your ear, in a sensual and slow tone. You were cracking and he knew it, it was hard to plead once, the second time it wouldn’t be easy. You were afraid to scream like you did before, but you wanted to scream for him, feel him inside pushing and taking over your body. "I know you like this, y/n" you sighed heavily at his words. "The adrenaline, the tension, the jealousy… the fear of being seen while I’m buried between your legs and you moan my name, begging for more. That makes it fun, and it turns you on." Two fingers accompanied his member to press against your clitoris, making you groan and arch your back, as he began to rub slowly. "You know you want me so bad as much as I want you. And I will have you. I will take you here and make you scream like nobody… not even Aonung. So, baby, stop resisting now and ask me." he ordered you, and you broke.

"Please… fuck me." You whispered, looking into his eyes with longing. Pride had left your body, and Neteyam smiled victorious, and then entered you easily, making you wince.

You whined as you felt your sex burn, widening to welcome its warmth. Neteyam kept you pinned against the sand as he began to push his member deep into you with brutal and merciless blows. He would pull back his pelvis and then push his member hard into you, touching your fragility. He kept pushing again and again… relentless, rude and almost savage, making you scream with pleasure at every stroke. A hand wrapped around your throat, stroking it with your thumb as you whimpered and he got excited at every tear of pleasure. "So sweet when you cry for my dick" You prayed that this moment would last as long as you could, feeling perfectly stuck with him. His hoarse groans and growls made you more needy, and every time his tip pressed against your weak spot, you arched your back feeling that you could welcome him better. Suddenly you came back to reality when he bit your lips as he slammed wildly at you, eating every scream or groan as your hands clung to his strong shoulders, scratching them and leaving bruises. His lunges were increasingly fierce, more focused at the point where you felt your excitement increase, as he leaned slightly to you, rubbing your bodies. Your excitement that slid down with every movement, unable to hold back the deep moans that Neteyam caused you, making you shudder. Your wet walls squeezed it and wrapped it with softness, allowing him to hit you deeper and deeper with more decisive strokes, until you felt close to orgasm again. You swear as Neteyam came out of you, leaving you a gap that was hard to fill except with him.

He took you from your hips after sitting, and placed you on him, clutching your soft flesh. You immediately sat on him, welcoming him back into you as you rode the high of both, your hands on his shoulders as your mouth left bites and hickeys on his neck, continuing to scratch his skin. Neteyam’s hands wrapped around your breast and ass, holding both with possession and desire, leaving some well-poised spanking that made you moan and sway more over him, feeling pleasure in his delicate ways. You felt heavy above him and you could get him to hit deep, moving to the places you most needed while some of his fingers slipped over your clitoris to stimulate him as you moved spasmodically. You leaned slightly backwards as you slammed your hips on him, feeling his tail wrap around your leg, squeezing it as he continued his movements to make you orgasm once more. You felt the heavy legs and the rest of the light body, following the rhythm you had decided, only managing to groan above him, whining about having more, as if you were not in charge in that position. He admired you, your body, as you sweated in pleasure, your whining and those drops of dew that bathed you the tanhì. He thought while you were grinding his dick.

At one point you could feel your body slipping out of your hands, and for a moment you lost touch with what was around you, the surging waves in the background, the hoarse groans and grunts, the wet beach and the moonlight illuminating your bodies. You arrived at your second orgasm, feeling your mind free, your muscles relaxed and a strong pleasure and well-being invading every inch of your body. Your movements did not stop, continuing to ride him, wanting to feel him inside you to the last, Applying his manhood as he had appropriated you. He squeezed your breasts, continuing to play with your clit, growling softly "Yawne… if you keep this up-" he whispered before being stopped by you. Your blushed face, swollen lips, and delicate scent had left him speechless even before you shut him up. "Shut the fuck up." You growled as you lowered your head, gripped by impetus and lust, continuing your rapid movements, squeezing your walls around him as his hands left bruises and scratches on your hips, guiding you on your high until it came inside you. His cum was hot inside you, filling you up until you almost feel stuffed. His orgasm was stronger than yours, his voice was hoarse in the groan he released, holding you to him.

You let yourself go on his chest, leaving his member buried in you as your moods mingled and descended upon your bodies. You closed your eyes as you took long breaths and still felt chills and spasms running through your body because of the orgasm you just had. Neteyam’s hand went up your back and then stroked your hair, leaving you to rest exhausted on him. "You were great, ma yawne" he said, leaving a kiss on your head, stroking your curls and smiling satisfied as he looked at your body full of his marks. You were his. "Is that what you say to everyone?" You answered, as you snuggled in need of affection, looking for his sweet touch. "No, that’s what I say to you. You are mine, these are words only for you, yawnetu." He said, lifting your face, leaving kisses on your face. "And after tonight, so will the Skxawngs looking at you. You’re my property." He said looking you in the eye, making you nod. You were still drunk from the double orgasm, from the fact that his cock was still inside you and from his grip. You were broken, in fact, it was always you, but without that pride you had. He tamed you, now you belonged to him and he belonged to you, he knew it. "Baby, I swear. Try what you did tonight again, and I won’t go easy on you like today" You opened your eyes, looking in disbelief. "Easy?! This seemed to you to 'go esay'?!" you gasps as you noticed his sneering smile, his hand caressing your face as you blush. "Aw, baby. Did you think this was my best?" He approached your ear, licking it slightly, making you feel shivers down your back. "That’s not even half of what you’re gonna feel with me."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Notes II:

Idk, but I liked writing this One shot, I think I’m slightly improving the smuts skills and I’m so happy about it. I hope you enjoyed reading <3

-Mel

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. ࿐࿔　　　. 　　˚　　　　*　　　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

TAG LIST : @riatesullironalite @shadowmoonlight0604

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comatosebunny09 · 11 months

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cómo me quieres [ snippet ] | astarion a.

warnings: mentions of bindings, suggestive, sexual tension now playing: august 10 - khruangbin

“—me up,” you say with all the conviction in the world.

Astarion snorts, taken aback by your request. An elegant hand to his chest with a smirk canting his lips and his brows lowered, he asks, “You want me to what?”

Warmth bleeds into your cheeks. Eyes shifting this way and that, you test the weight of your statement, wetting your lips with your tongue.

“I want you to tie me up.”

Astarion chuckles. Something dark and guttural. His irises dip into a mysterious shade of amber in the candlelight of your room whilst he cautions a step towards you—like a leopard homing in on its catch. “Darling. I never would have pegged you as the type.”

It is your turn to snort. With folded arms, you haughtily turn your head away from him, muttering a noncommittal, “Never mind.”

“Aww. Don’t be that way, my love.”

Astarion saunters ever closer, his body language relaxed. Rehearsed. Sultry as he drags the flat of his nails down your arm, a flurry of goosebumps igniting in their wake. You watch their sinister descent along your skin. Observe as they coast back up to your collarbone, index tracing along it. Your breath catches at his opposing hand perching on your hip, suddenly drawing your pelvises together.

You feel Astarion’s gaze sinking beneath your flesh, causing your body to buzz and hum from his proximity. You fear locking eyes with him, not wanting to reveal the lust-laden thoughts taking residence in your mind. Not that it matters after you so brazenly asked him to bind you.

Your lover clicks his tongue, gathering your jaw in the coolness of his palm. Angles your head back so you can peer shyly into the smoldering pools of his eyes. Purposeful and honey-slow, his mouth pans in, ghosting over yours, coaxing you with the promise of a kiss you never receive.

You growl lowly at his cheekiness. Wind your fingers around his wrist, your mind turning to smog at the dizzying warmth and oxytocin brewing between you.

“Truth be told,” Astarion croons, his hand curling about your throat, thumb skating over your bottom lip. “I’ve often entertained the idea of you all strung up like a pig lain to slaughter.”

You snort at the smile in his eyes, your body not at all deterred by being compared to meat.

Astarion presses your foreheads together. Sways your bodies to an unheard rhythm, fingers petting your cheeks, chin, and neck tortuously slow. “Do we even have the provisions to fulfill such a fantasy?”

You swallow thickly, bashfully looking away. Your voice is small as you utter, “I…have some rope in my pack—”

“That you were saving for a rainy day,” Astarion supplies, his tone laced with amusement.

You nod, smoothing your hands along the wrinkles of his shirt against his chest. It sounds silly when he puts it that way.

“Well then, darling,” drawls Astarion, bringing your gaze back up to him, his lips once again on an unhurried excursion against yours. “No sense in wasting time. Go and fetch it.”

#astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x tav #bg3 fanfiction #bg3 x reader #bg3 x tav #bg3 x you #kinktober

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omgsuperstarg · 6 months

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Market Day- Toto Wolff x Black! Caribbean Reader

Author's Note: This one shot is based on another function of Caribbean Life. Going to the Market or Farmer's Market to get fresh food for the household is a normal occurrence and Toto decides to tag along with you and assist.

Saturday mornings are usually a staple of your household. That's the day when you head down to the local farmer's market and pick up the much-needed fruits, produce (ground provisions), & seasoning herbs for the meats and fish. Today, you wake at the crack of dawn to get ready. Toto was fast asleep during the summer shutdown taking the much-needed rest from flying for weeks at a time. This is usually a solo trip, so going out and returning in record times is an art form for you.

All that you needed was in your car, you proceed to leave a note so that he knew your whereabouts and with that, you're off for another fruitful Saturday morning.

Mini time skip..........

You're already halfway through your list when your phone begins ringing.

Hello

"Good Morning darling, I see you've left me all alone", your love speaks playfully.

"Morning to you as well Toto. I decided to let you sleep in because GOD KNOWS you need it and market trips have always been a solo task for me. Plus, I'm getting all the ingredients for SOUP SATURDAY!!", you state matter of factly.

"So where are you?", you inquire.

Turn around.

What!?!?", your voice

In doing what's instructed, you observe your boyfriend in some dry-fit shorts, a t-shirt with silver arrow logos, and some aviator shades with sneakers completing his relaxed outfit. Knowing Toto he always wore the love for his team on his sleeve in both figurative and literal senses. He jogs up to you with a bright smile on his face, one that you've come to love in your three years together.

"Im surprised to see you here, I thought you would be sleeping in since Saturdays' are usually my day", you profess as you hand him one of your market bags.

"Well, I couldn't let my darling do her shopping unaccompanied. Not only that it's a perfect way to catch up and spoil yourself with the florals you admire soo much", the statuesque man states with his accented speech seeping into your bones.

"Well, there's still a few more things that need to be purchased and since I already have meat seasoned for cooking, I say when we arrive home I can make us some soup. Judging the clouds it's going to be a heavy rain shower." you speak observing the bleak sky.

"Ahhh yes, soup is always comforting on a rainy day," he says smiling.

A fruitful trip was completed, you both were now home and cutting up vegetables for a hearty lunch. Dancehall and Soca music is blasting throughout the kitchen which is typical of a Saturday Morning. Toto observes you dancing along to the music and even finds himself nodding along to its infectious beat.

"So its always this noisy when you're back home?", he inquires as he sits near the granite countertop.

"Yes, this is a pretty normal vibe for a Caribbean household. Sometimes I would do my Saturday chores on a Friday so I wouldn't have to and the second Saturday or whenever the funds arrive would be market day. After coming home, I would assist my grandma in making soup, my favorite is Chicken foot and I would add ramen noodles to it as well. Early afternoon we would either bake homemade bread or coconut bake'', you profess wistfully as you think of your island home.

"I think that's quite sweet and I'm glad that you're able to share this part of your life with me,'' he confessed.

"I hope I can drag your butt for Trinidad & Tobago Carnival, get some seasoning in you as well as a little more colour, the fangirls I know would appreciate it, me being a major one," you say as you shut the stove off and begin to distribute the food.

The rain finally came down as you both began to eat, the warmness of the soup filling your soul, and the man sharing his love making you feel even more cozy.

#toto wolff #mercedes amg petronas #f1 #toto wolff x black!reader #Caribbean Life #f1 x black!reader #SoundCloud

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jplupine · 2 months

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Beast of Sunagakure: Part 2

Pairing: Gaara x AFAB Reader Word Count: ~8k Date Published: July 19, 2024 WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, Monster!Gaara, Exophilia, Size Difference, Feral Behavior, Underwear Stealing, Marking, Vaginal Sex, Hair Pulling, Vaginal Fingering, Creampie, Getting Caught; Reader is AFAB but no gender is specified, Terms such as pussy/cock/etc. get used.

A/N: The art above was drawn by me! Gotta crop to make it Tumblr friendly </3 If you'd like to see the full image, you can follow the links here or read it on AO3.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Bonus You can also read it on AO3!

"Oh, this is just wonderful." Your voice was heavy with sarcasm as you threw your clothes around.

"What's wrong?" Gaara asked as he watched you from a few feet away.

"Have you seen my underwear? I left them on that rock to keep sand out of them and now they're gone!" You picked up your bag to search it just in case they had been placed inside and you had simply forgotten. Gaara shrugged before glancing toward the opening of the cave.

"The wind did pick up for a little while earlier."

"You've got to be kidding." You went to the edge of the cave and peeked outside. Your eyes scanned the sand to see if the wind had blown the garment away. If it had, you couldn't see it. You groaned in frustration before going back to your bag. "Whatever. At least I have more."

Pulling out a clean pair of underwear, you then got dressed to finish the journey home. Gaara would be returning with you as the beast to make it seem as if you had found him and were bringing him back. To make it more convincing, he was putting his shackles and muzzle on before he shape-shifted back into his cursed tanuki form.

He shook out his fur and stretched before you both headed out into the desert and went in the direction of Sunagakure. Gaara used his larger body to provide you shade from the blazing sun crawling across the sky. It was easier crossing the desert with his help and much faster.

When you could see the village in the distance, you took hold of the chain dangling from Gaara's muzzle. He huffed through his nose but followed your lead.

Nearing the village, you could hear people yelling and rushing to get out of the way when they saw Gaara coming. A few screamed, but Gaara remained behind you. You swallowed while trying to maintain a calm appearance as you walked through the village. Your grip on the chain tightened.

Best case scenario, you could get Gaara back to his cage before any elders or other village officials could interfere and have as little fuss as possible. In reality, you didn't make it far before you were stopped by the Kazekage himself standing in the middle of the road. His expression was firm as his gaze was settled on Gaara.

Panic made your heart beat faster when his eyes drifted down to you.

"You were taught to control the curse seals? I was not told anyone took you on as an apprentice."

"Um, no." You cleared your throat. "I-I found him wandering the desert on my way home. He recognized me and thought I would have food for him. Thankfully, I had a lot of provisions from my cousin's wedding to give him." You hoped talking about Gaara as if he were more like an animal would be enough to convince Rasa that you didn't know the truth about Gaara. There was a stretch of silence as you were scrutinized before the Kazekage stepped to the side.

"Come. We should have him properly fed before he gets the urge to hunt." You felt relief wash over you. "It must have been terrifying being alone with him." Rasa spoke while walking.

"Oh, yeah." You nervously laughed. "When he charged at me, I thought I was done for until he was shoving his head into my bag to get the food. The muzzle got in the way, so I had to help him." You were quick to spin your story and add details to lower suspicions.

"You're not going to ask how he escaped?"

"I wasn't sure I should. I was guessing something must've gone wrong while he was being transported because of the muzzle."

"I commend your ability to stay calm in such a situation. I'll take it from here. This is where you live, is it not?" The Kazekage stopped outside of your home, and you glanced at it before looking back at him.

"Yes, sir."

"Go. Rest. You must be exhausted." Rasa took the muzzle's chain from you only to have Gaara resist. The Kazekage looked Gaara in the eye with a silent, threatening expression.

"Thank you, Lord Kazekage." You bowed out of respect before turning to go inside. When you looked back, Rasa was dragging Gaara away.

The next time you saw Gaara was when you returned to your work duties. He looked okay as he could be, alert and with his ears perked in your direction. His bright eyes were a welcome sight compared to when he was aggressive or indifferent.

"Good morning, Gaara." You greeted him while unloading his breakfast from the bucket you carried. Judging by his behavior, you truly didn't need to worry about being attacked anymore. You got his food through the bars before taking off your gloves as Gaara came over to eat. "I don't know about you, but I could hardly get any sleep last night. I was too worried about what the Kazekage might be doing to you."

Gaara huffed and started eating.

"I'm serious!" You leaned against the bars. "I could barely bring myself to leave you alone with him. He looked pissed." Gaara's ears tilted down before he nodded, letting you know the Kazekage had indeed been very angry with him. "He didn't hurt you, did he?" He shook his head. "Good. That's a relief." You sighed.

Having Gaara finally responding to your idle chatter also felt nice. Talking to yourself before was a bit hollow.

When it came time to clean his cage, you were more comfortable being in there with him than last time. Gaara also seemed more relaxed while watching you scrub the floor. His gaze didn't feel as predatorial either.

Rattling came from behind you along with metallic scraping. Looking over your shoulder, you saw Gaara in his human form and pulling the shackles off his ankles. Your eyes widened and darted around to make sure only you two were there.

"Gaara? What are you doing?"

"I want to talk to you."

"About?"

"I want to help. Show me how to do this." Gaara guided you further away from his bed. You were immediately suspicious as he took the scrub broom from you.

"What are you hiding?" His eyes locked with yours and he looked like a caught mouse.

"What? I'm not-"

"You think I'm not used to you hiding crap in your bed? I have to change out your bedding today, so you better tell me. I swear if I find another slobbery bone-"

"You won't!" Gaara waved his hand as he blushed.

"Right." You had a dry tone before going to his bed to look.

"I'll change the bedding!" He tried to stop you, but you knew exactly where he tended to hide things among the straw. You pulled up the floral fabrics you already knew he had.

However, with the headscarves was something else you knew belonged to you but didn't know he had. Holding it up, you spun on your heel to look at Gaara who now had a bright red face.

"Gaara!" You yelled while shaking your fist clutching the garment. "Is this my underwear?!" He averted his gaze while crossing his arms. "You are a pervert! And a little liar! Wind blew them away, my ass."

"I can explain."

"Yeah. Explain why you stole my dirty underwear. Pretty sure I can guess." You then looked at the underwear you held as your brows furrowed with confusion. "Wait, how did you even steal these? You don't have any pockets." Gaara lowered his head as his jaw clenched.

"I....tucked them into one of my shackles." His ears were nearly the same shade of red as his hair.

"You didn't think this through past doing that, did you?"

"I won't argue about my actions being impulsive. They were."

"You need to learn to ask for permission instead of just taking my things." You pointed at Gaara, and he looked at you with wide eyes. "Being a little pervert is one thing, a thief is another."

"You say that as if you would give them to me."

"I don't know. I seem to like how you want me so badly you act like an animal." You shrugged. "It makes me feel better about the thoughts I've had about you." He was visibly caught off guard by your words. There were a few seconds of utter silence as Gaara stared at you before you raised your eyebrows at him.

It was hard to tell what was going through his head.

Then he took a step closer. His eyes now looked hungry as he was stalking toward you. He only stopped when he stood close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin and his gaze studied your face.

"You have thoughts about me?" His voice had dropped in tone as he cocked his head to the side.

"I do."

"Then in the cave.... That wasn't just a spur-of-the-moment thing?"

"I'll admit I did have ulterior motives at first. But I meant it when I said that I was coming back to you. I worried about you the whole time I was gone." You were being honest and hoped that he could tell.

"What ulterior motives?" His brows slightly furrowed.

"To tell the truth? I was planning to jerk you off so you'd be less inclined to maul me." There was another pause before the corners of his mouth curled up and he laughed. Gaara's laugh was sweet and reached his eyes; it made your heart skip a beat.

He was a pretty beast and a pretty man. The way his eyes seemed to glitter in the sunlight coming through the barred windows made you momentarily forget your circumstances. Gaara covered his mouth with his hand while still smiling. His closeness and expression had your heart beating faster.

"I'm sorry. I didn't expect you to be so blunt."

"Is that smile worth a kiss?"

"You want a kiss?"

"Well, it's either you give me a kiss, or I steal one like you've stolen my things." You waved your underwear and headscarves.

"Is this threat also with ulterior motives?" His question made you lean in closer until your noses were only centimeters away from each other.

"Yes. To get you to kiss me." You saw his eyes drift down to your lips. "I won't tell if you don't." You whispered with a smirk.

Gaara closed the distance between your mouths to kiss you. One of his hands came up to cradle the back of your head as his fingers laced through your hair. His other hand grabbed your hip to pull your body flush against his. You tossed the garments you held behind you to drape your arms over Gaara's shoulders.

As his lips moved in time with yours, you slid your fingers up the back of his neck. You knew you shouldn't be doing this with Gaara given the chances of getting caught being a lot higher than back in that cave. But one little kiss couldn't hurt, could it?

The way he kissed you was hungry; full of craving as he held you impossibly close. It made your knees feel weak. After tasting this forbidden fruit full of desire, no other man could compare.

Gaara pulled away only to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. He inhaled your scent and softly growled.

"You smell sweeter."

"What?"

"Stress is bitter." He muttered before grabbing the back of your thighs to lift you. A gasp left your mouth when you found yourself on your back and Gaara on top of you. His face was buried in your neck and shoulder as the straw beneath you rustled. "I've watched you get plumper and sweeter. It makes my mouth water." His lips were on your skin when he pulled your collar to the side. "I tried to behave. But I could never forget your touch or the way you sounded."

"Tried to behave? You stole my underwear, Gaara." You scoffed.

"I didn't think I could have you." He grazed his teeth over your exposed skin, his sharper canines causing goosebumps to rise in their wake. Gaara's tone and his mouth on you made you realize keeping it to 'just a kiss' would be harder than you thought; how quickly things had escalated and you were now in his bed.

You both were dancing on the edge, pushing just how far you would go. It was only supposed to be a one-time thing in that cave, but as Gaara had said, you also could never forget what happened between you two then. It was hard to think straight with him so close.

"But you want me. That much I know is not a trick." Gaara brushed his nose right under your jaw while slipping one of his hands between your thighs to cup your core. Your eyes fluttered closed as you took in a shaky breath. Your grip on his shoulders tightened from his fingers rubbing over your pussy through your clothes. "That scent doesn't lie."

Opening your eyes, you pulled Gaara's face away from your neck to look at you. The silence between you was sparking before you pulled him in for a kiss. Your tongue slipped past his lips to caress his, and Gaara yanked your apron off. He pulled at the rest of your clothes to have skin-to-skin contact and threw them to the side.

You moaned into the kiss while grabbing his hips to pull his body closer to yours. Feeling the warmth of his skin as his palm ran up your side made a shiver of delight go up your spine. His erection was pressing against your inner thigh until you spread your legs more, allowing him to get comfortable while lying against you.

His weight on top of you was bliss as you nipped his bottom lip. Your hands on his hips moved to go up his back. Gaara's breath faltered before he pulled away from the kiss for air. His deep blush had reached his ears and made his pale eyes stand out even more.

He lowered his head to kiss down your throat, and you leaned your head back to make it easier. His hands wandered, touching and groping anywhere he could reach. Gaara craved with his entire being, memorizing your body with his hands and lips as his kisses went lower.

He bit down on your chest hard enough to leave a mark near your heart. Gaara then licked the bite to help soothe it. Something about the bite made your skin buzz with excitement. His desire to mark you, to leave some evidence of his touch that lasted longer made you feel good.

You watched him kiss and nip more places over your torso. Gaara's lips were so gentle before the sting of his teeth followed, then the soothing wet heat of his tongue. It drove you wild, made worse by thinking of what else he could do with his mouth even in his beast form.

Gaara turned his face up again to look at you while holding your hips in place.

"I can't wait any longer." His voice was breathy as he panted.

"Go on, then." You bit your bottom lip while looking at his hard cock hovering over your core. Your hands were on Gaara's shoulders again as you watched him penetrate you. Being smaller in his human form made it easier, and his hips were soon flush against yours. Your hands on his shoulders moved to cup his face and guide him into another kiss.

His hunger for you was insatiable as his tongue slipped into your mouth and his hips began to rock. He was slow at first, processing every sensation at once before his hips snapped. Gaara had you moaning into his mouth over and over again just to devour the sound. His chest rumbled with a low growl when your fingers tangled in his hair and pulled, the sound vibrating not only his body but your own as well.

You quickly forgot about everything else; your chores, your circumstances, and even the risk of being caught was no longer on your mind. Gaara was all you could think about as he pistoned his cock and grabbed the back of one of your knees to raise it higher.

The new position allowed him to go deeper and grind against your clit. Gaara rested his forehead on yours while moaning and panting, breathless from the kiss. He leaned on his elbow placed near your head while still holding your knee up.

"You may need to keep my cage locked when you ovulate. I don't know what I might do now knowing how you feel and taste." Gaara groaned while going balls-deep in your pussy as arousal leaked down over your ass. The thought of him driven feral with need for you made you clench around his cock.

You moaned and let the waves of pleasure wash your worries away. Gaara rolled his hips, putting more pressure against your clit to make you squirm beneath him.

"Fuck~!" You cried out while tugging on his hair. "Please- Oh, fuck!- Please do that again." Gaara obliged, making you clench around him again.

You pulled his hair to bury your face in his neck. His grip on your leg tightened as he went harder, making you moan louder into his skin. Gaara growled with satisfaction and maintained his heavy pace to keep hearing you.

Your nails dug into his skin as your toes curled. Gaara bucked when you began to leave sloppy kisses on his neck. You nipped his warm skin, and hearing the way his breath shook, you bit harder, making him groan.

Gaara was falling apart on top of you, grinding and thrusting while moaning near your ear. When you bit down hard enough to leave a mark, he couldn't take anymore. His cock was buried to the hilt as he was coming. You licked the bite while smirking and holding him close.

Listening to him panting, you could feel his racing heart against your chest. Your fingers in his hair loosened their grip and began to gently rub his scalp to help him calm down.

"I'm sorry." His voice was quiet.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry." Gaara let go of your knee. "You didn't get to-"

"Stop. It's okay." You cut him off and kissed his cheek. "If it really bothers you," You grabbed one of his hands and raised it. "you can use your hands." He watched as some of his fingers disappeared in your mouth. His chest rumbled with his eyes locked on your lips and tongue.

You weren't able to leave until hours later, body still buzzing and delightfully exhausted. Gaara wanted to explore you and had done just that. The fact that you left without underwear also meant you had to go straight home and get cleaned up.

It was clear things between you and Gaara would never be the way they were before. You began to bring him more gifts, starting with a small potted succulent to put in the window. When asked about it, you would say that it was an attempt to make the place less barren and easier to work in. The elders would roll their eyes but let you keep the growing number of plants in the windows.

All the while, you would sneak into Gaara's cage to spend time with him when no one else was around. From cuddling and sharing stories to sex that left you breathless, your relationship with Gaara grew. When he was in human form, you loved it when he smiled and clung to those moments.

"Who would have known this was all it took?" A woman's voice made you look up while you were wiping your hands off on your apron. You had just cleaned up after feeding Gaara and returned to see a blonde woman standing near one of the windows, touching one of the potted succulents.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand." You said, and the woman looked back over her shoulder at you. You froze when you realized she was the Kazekage's daughter.

"You've been his caretaker longer than most. He even seems to like you." Her gaze drifted over you before she glanced at Gaara. "I wanted to know why. You don't seem all that special. You can't even control his curse seal." Temari's tone was steady as she spoke. "You also aren't the first to try being kind to him. In fact, the last person who tried to be kind to him ended up unrecognizable. So I couldn't understand what made you different." She then looked at the plants in the window again.

"I wish I could tell you." You chuckled nervously while shifting your weight on your feet.

"There's no need. I can see it now that I'm here." Temari crossed her arms. "You actually mean it. I heard you talking to him earlier. You were genuine in asking him how he slept and how he was feeling. Being genuine is something I've never seen anyone do for Gaara." She turned to face you and got closer. "You walked with him right into the village without being attacked or anyone else getting hurt. It has people asking questions."

"What? Why?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Temari suddenly grabbed you and shoved you against the cage bars. With one hand on the back of your head, she had your face pressed against the bars. Gaara was snarling with his hackles raised as he paced the cage. "He won't attack you. He attacks everyone if given the chance. My brother and I have scars to prove it. Gaara isn't some stray dog who starts obeying after being fed, and we all know it. People are thinking you're a witch."

"I'm not!"

"I know." Her grip loosened as she looked at Gaara. "But you should be careful." Temari backed away from you and moved to leave. "The Kazekage always puts the village first. If what you've done has weakened Sunagakure's greatest weapon, he won't take kindly to that."

The silence that followed her warning was tense.

"She knows, doesn't she?" You muttered while staring in the direction Temari had gone. "About you, I mean." Looking at Gaara, you saw him turning into his human form before grabbing the cage bars.

"Yes. I wasn't always locked away. Hurting them is how I got here." Gaara averted his gaze to look at the ground. "It was harder to control when I was younger. People hurt me, so I hurt them."

"Then Temari and Kankuro aren't going to be on your side anytime soon."

"No." Gaara shook his head. "Which means you need to make sure no one learns that you know."

"Do you never want to leave this cage? You don't have to keep going through this." You cupped his cheek in your hand while studying his expression.

"It's better that I'm here."

"How? You're not some wild animal, Gaara." He didn't respond while holding the back of your hand as he turned his face to nuzzle your palm. You sighed through your nose and didn't push the matter any further.

Your heart ached seeing him remain here like this. He looked at you and softly sighed through his nose.

"There's more to that story."

"What?"

"The last person who tried being kind to me. Temari doesn't know what really happened." Gaara looked away as his grip on your hand tightened. "He tried to kill me. What I did was in self-defense."

"I believe you." You muttered while brushing your thumb over his cheek. Getting to know Gaara, the real Gaara behind the raging beast, you learned that he was full of pain and had been lashing out his entire life. However, he was always honest about the things he had done even if it hurt.

After Temari's visit, it didn't seem as if she was planning to make regular appearances. It was like before when she avoided Gaara. It didn't seem as if she told the Kazekage her thoughts about you possibly making Gaara weaker either given the fact that you retained your position as his caretaker.

And when you stood in front of his cage with another potted succulent in your hands, holding it in front of your face while peeking over the plant, you knew. Hiding your smile with the succulent, you watched as Gaara's eyes softened and a smile pulled at the corners of his lips. He made a joke about how many plants were now filling the windows and spilling onto the floor but it wasn't a complaint. Hearing his light tone and seeing his soft smile, you knew you were in love.

You also knew that could get you in so much trouble. Had you fallen in love with any other man in the village, it wouldn't be an issue. But you had to go and fall in love with the Beast of Sunagakure.

What sort of future could you two possibly have? You didn't want to be sneaking around all the time just to be with him. What you wanted was Gaara out of that damn cage.

Your concerns for Gaara would keep you awake some nights. You would toss and turn, trying to get comfortable enough to sleep, but your mind wouldn't stop racing. On one of those nights, you couldn't take it anymore and got up.

The silence of the night surrounded you as you walked through the empty village with only a few drunkards stumbling about on their way home. It didn't take you long to reach the building where Gaara was kept far away from the rest of the villagers. Using your keys, you got inside without being seen and locked the door behind you.

Quietly making your way deeper into the building, you entered the room with Gaara's cage. He was sound asleep and curled up in bed. Moonlight through the barred windows provided enough light for you to find your way to the front of his cage to unlock it.

Gaara stirred when he heard your key turning in the lock with a twitch of his ear. He tiredly blinked while raising his head to watch you come closer.

"I'm sorry. I couldn't sleep." You muttered while rubbing the back of your neck. "If you want me to go, I will." Gaara shook his head, much to your relief. His tail straightened out as he was shifting his body as if to get up. "Actually," You stopped him by putting a hand on his shoulder.

He raised a brow in question, and you set the keys on the floor before timidly slipping under his arm while crawling into his bed. Gaara rolled onto his back with you lying on top of him. He looked down at you as you rested your cheek on his chest and heavily sighed.

The sound of his beating heart beneath your ear filled the silence. You relaxed against him, and Gaara draped one of his large arms over your back while crooning. Running your fingers through the soft fur on his chest, you listened to his heart.

Gaara nuzzled the top of your head, comforting you as your stress began to ease. Your fingers twirled around his fur, his warmth soaking into your bedclothes and reaching your skin. You wished you could stay like this without having to sneak back home before the morning light.

You raised your head to look at Gaara with your chin resting on his chest. His head tilted as he looked at you. With a soft smile, you leaned up to kiss the tip of his nose. He huffed through his nose before licking your cheek.

Chuckling, you grabbed his face to litter it with kisses. On his cheeks, forehead, nose, and temples. Gaara's chest softly rumbled with a growl that nearly mimicked a purr. He was loving the attention and your touch.

Gaara made a sound like a rolling chirp when you rubbed the base of his ears. His arm over your back pulled you closer to his face. Burying his head under your chin, he was breathing in your scent as your fingers went through his hair and fur.

"Look at you being so sweet." You cooed, and his tail curled. Rubbing one of his ears, you smiled. "You should've been nicer to me sooner if this is what you wanted." Gaara huffed through his nose again, the warm air hitting your neck and chest and making you chuckle.

You wanted to be able to do this every night.

"My lovely Gaara." Your voice was soft as you traced your fingers along his jaw. Gaara gave a pleased rumble as his tail slowly swayed, letting you know that he was still enjoying the contact. "Maybe next time I'll sneak you out to my house." His ears perked up. "Oh, you like that idea, do you?" You chuckled, and he nodded. "I could bring a cloak to disguise your human form. Then I could make us dinner."

Gaara was quietly listening to your musing as you ran your fingers through his hair. His tail coiling rustled the straw in his bed.

"After dinner, we could have a bath. Nice and warm. You'd end up smelling like me, though, unless I get you your own soap." You hummed but felt Gaara shake his head. "No? You don't mind using my soap?" He shook his head again. "All right, then. We could even help each other wash up. I often have some trouble getting my back. You'd help me with that, wouldn't you?" You asked as your hand went down the side of his neck and over his chest to his shoulder.

Gaara nodded after a short pause. His ears were low and his heart was beating faster. Looking at Gaara, it didn't take you long to figure out why he wasn't as relaxed as before. While you were talking, he was imagining.

"See? You're so sweet." You pretended not to notice the changes in Gaara and continued to talk. "My bathroom is pretty small, so it'd be a tight fit for both of us in there. We can make it work if you don't mind being close to me. Hmm. I won't have to fill the tub as much with you in there, though. If I did, there'd just be water getting everywhere." Your fingers traced lazy circles in his short fur. "And then we could cuddle in my bed. It's not as spacious as yours, but you should be able to fit with me in your human form."

There was a quiet groan from Gaara that made you scoff in amusement.

"What? Don't want to squeeze in? Sorry, prince. I can't afford a luxurious house. It's also a good thing you don't think I stink because everything smells like me in there too." You softly sighed but watched as Gaara's ears moved and his breath faltered. "I'm beginning to think you like that idea; being surrounded by me. Well, you'd have to behave for me to be able to sneak you through the village. Think you could be a good boy for me?" Your voice went softer, and his ears turned back as his hold on you tightened.

Gaara nodded to answer you while turning his face toward your neck. You knew his mind was racing now even if you couldn't tell exactly what he was thinking about. Flattening your palm against his chest, you heard his tail twitch across the straw. His tongue slithered out to lap at your throat.

"Is something on your mind, Gaara?" You asked as a smile pulled at your lips. He gave a soft whine from the back of his throat. "Are you uncomfortable? I can lay beside you instead-" You moved to sit up only to have Gaara pull you back into him. Chuckling, you kissed his temple. "So if that's not your problem, what is?" He huffed, his warm breath rolling over your skin.

There was another soft whine as Gaara nuzzled your jaw.

"Oh, I think I know what it is." Your fingers circled the dark spot on his chest. "You're thinking about me naked, aren't you? Soaking wet from a bath. Skin warm and soft beneath your hands." You purred as your hand went down his torso. "The smell of fresh soap clinging to my hair. Sheets soaked in my scent." Gaara groaned low, making his chest vibrate beneath you. "I can sneak you over tomorrow if you're that interested. But for tonight...." You trailed off while lifting your tunic higher up your thigh.

Gaara's gaze followed your hand, watching as more of your skin became exposed. When you glanced back, you saw that Gaara's hard cock was already leaking with precum. Looking at him with a smile, you scooted down his torso to press yourself against his erection. He moved his arms to give you more room.

Slipping off your underwear, you then took off your tunic. Straddling Gaara's hips, you leaned back while placing a hand on his thigh for stability. His cock was pressing against your ass while your other hand traveled over your body.

His breath quickened as he watched you. Your hand went down your torso before your fingers spread yourself wider. There was a low growl from deep in Gaara's chest as he stared at your pussy on display for him. His tongue hungrily licked his maw while watching your fingers glide through your arousal. You circled your entrance and up to your clit.

Your breath faltered from how you touched yourself. Gaara couldn't look away, drinking in how the moonlight lit your skin and made your wetness glisten. His eyes were begging for more.

Letting your head fall back with a groan as you rubbed the throbbing bud beneath your fingers, you bared your throat to Gaara. He sat up, taking his chance to taste your skin with his long tongue curling around your neck. Your hand on his thigh moved to push against his chest.

"Lie back down." Gaara hesitated with a whine before doing as told. He was eager, needy, and you had been teasing him with fantasies. You made him watch as you slid your fingers into your pussy and coated them in your slick. Gaara looked so close to snapping.

Pulling your fingers free, you lifted your hips to bring Gaara's cock in front of you. Your wet fingers smeared your arousal along his shaft as he groaned. You hummed while swiping your thumb over the tip of his dick, using his precum along with your slick as a lubricant.

Placing one hand on his stomach, you lined up his cock, running the head between your wet lips until it slipped into place. Lowering your hips, you felt yourself stretch to accommodate his thickness. Gaara whimpered when you took all of him as his fingers twitched and his claws flexed.

Closing your eyes with a sigh, you took a few seconds to adjust. Gaara rested his arms above his head to dig his claws into the straw. Raising your hips, you sank back down to the hilt. You set a slow and steady pace at first while readjusting to get a better angle.

Gaara grunted as his face twisted with pleasure. You rode him with your hands running up his sides. His back arched off the bed when you clenched around him, his sharp intake of breath making you smile. He couldn't keep still beneath you, twitching and groaning with your arousal dripping down his balls.

You picked up speed after planting your hands on his chest. Rising and falling on his cock, you moaned and panted, feeling his soft barbs from deep within. His head rolled to the side as he panted and his claws left scratches on the bed beneath the straw.

His mouth hung open from his heavy breathing as drool dripped from his fangs. Gaara's gaze drifted down, his muscles twitching as he watched your body move. His eyes settled on his wet cock you were busy bouncing on. He groaned as his keen ears picked up the slick sounds coming from between your thighs along with your shaky breaths and moans.

He could see how your body stretched around him and felt how it clenched and squeezed. You liked how lost he looked. He could easily roll over and mount you if he wanted, but he was instead letting you ride him as he squirmed.

Gaara bucked, driving his cock deeper when his tail smacked against the bed and floor. You moaned as your nails dug into his fur. His chest rumbled beneath your hands, sending vibrations up your arms.

"Does it really feel that good, pretty boy?" You purred, and Gaara's ears turned back as he whimpered. You knew that if he was in human form his blush would be spreading down to his chest from how he was acting. He managed to nod before licking his maw with a groan. "I can't believe just talking about- Ngh!- spending the night together got you this riled up. You're so cute." One of your hands slid down his torso, fingers ghosting over his abdomen and around his belly button before going lower.

His body arched toward your touch as if seeking more of it. Gaara rocked his hips up, giving more of an impact when you sank down on his cock. You cursed through a moan and leaned back to place your other hand on his raised knee. Gaara continued to thrust his hips in time with your movement while gripping the edge of the bed above his head. Your hand that had gone down his torso now went up to your clit.

Rubbing circles over it, you felt yourself clench around Gaara's dick. His entire body tensed as his lip curled into a snarl to bare his fangs. He watched your hand work while trying to keep his hips moving steadily.

Your grip on his knee tightened. It was difficult to focus while seeing the way Gaara looked at you and hearing his sounds of pleasure as his cock filled you. You could feel your orgasm building and added just a little more pressure to your clit. You bucked, Gaara's name spilling from your lips with a breathy voice.

Gaara's grip on his bed was harsh enough to break a piece off in his massive hand. The damage wasn't enough to make either of you stop, so close to the high that nothing else mattered. Your thighs burned and clenched around Gaara's hips. Your blunt nails were digging into Gaara's thigh when you finally climaxed.

Your orgasm was the last straw for Gaara, his head rolling back as he bellowed. You were locked in place by his barbs while feeling his cum flooding your core. Your body was buzzing and sensitive, feeling every twitch of his cock buried inside you. He groaned as his body relaxed, and you let your gaze wander over Gaara.

The rise and fall of his broad chest, the drool leaving a sheen on his jaw, and the way his fingers spread and closed into a fist as if to keep himself grounded. When his cock and barbs began to soften, his body began to shrink from him shifting into human form. More of his cum spilled out and dripped down his balls before he propped himself up on his elbows to look at you.

Seeing the little smile on your face was all it took before he reared up and grabbed your face to kiss you. It was sweet and hungry, his arms wrapping around you to hold you against his chest. Your fingers slid into his hair to deepen the kiss, but then you caught a glimpse of the chunk missing from his bed and began to laugh.

Gaara was confused for a second before realizing what you were laughing at. His lips curled upward with a laugh bubbling up that made your heart flutter. His pretty eyes glittered in the moonlight as you both laughed together over the broken piece of the bed discarded on the floor.

Until Gaara suddenly stopped and his head whipped in the direction of the windows. He tensed, making you follow his gaze to see what he was looking at.

Never did you think someone other than you would come to see Gaara in the middle of the night. He was feared by nearly the entire village; who other than you would possibly dare come here in the dark? And yet, despite everything, someone was standing outside and looking in through one of the barred windows with eyes wide in shock.

Dread settled in your gut. How much had this person seen? You were naked in the arms of a man in the Beast's cage; it wouldn't be hard to figure out what was going on.

"Gaara, what the fuck?!" The man outside whisper-yelled before looking away as if to check his surroundings. Gaara quickly leaned over to grab your tunic and shove it into your arms.

"Get dressed." He rushed to move you off him before getting up. You did as told, pulling your tunic over your head before searching for your underwear. Gaara remained in human form, and it wasn't until the man outside came inside that you recognized who he was. Seeing the man's face made you feel even worse.

"What in the fuck is going on here?!" Kankuro hissed while standing outside of the cage. The silence that followed was deafening. Gaara grabbed your wrist to pull you closer as if he was worried something might happen. He stood straight with his shoulders squared and a serious look on his face.

"We were having sex."

"No shit."

"Then why ask?"

"Are you kidding me? We all know what you're like, Gaara. I'm asking how the fuck this happened." Kankuro waved his hand.

"Do you seriously want me to answer that?"

"Yes!"

"I became aroused, and then they took my penis-"

"Are you stupid?! I don't need you to tell me how sex works!" Kankuro sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose while his other hand was on his hip. You had to cover your mouth to keep from laughing. You weren't sure if Gaara was trying to frustrate his older brother on purpose or not. "You nearly took out my eye once, so finding you giggling and balls-deep in someone is the last thing I expected to ever see. Temari said you took a liking to your caretaker, but I didn't think it was to this degree."

"What are you doing here anyway?" Gaara asked while crossing his arms.

"I was coming to talk to you about what Temari told me. Wasn't sure you'd talk to me, but clearly, I got my answer regardless." There was an awkward silence as they looked at each other. Even if they were brothers, they were not close, and Gaara stood unmoving and unspeaking like a statue.

A naked statue with bits of straw sticking out of his hair.

"Could you at least cover up?" Kankuro sighed, and Gaara lowered his hands to hold them over his crotch. "You know this is going to cause problems."

"Don't push me, Kankuro. I won't waste time with threats if you put them in danger."

"Look, I'm not saying I'm gonna tell. But if you two plan on fucking next to uncovered windows, I'm not gonna be the only one seeing something. Now can we backtrack to how this even happened to begin with? You're not exactly known for being the cuddly type."

"....It's complicated."

"I got that already." Kankuro glanced at you. Your hands were clutching the sides of your tunic as you kept quiet to let Gaara handle whatever this situation was developing into. It was looking as if Kankuro was going to keep your and Gaara's secret.

You just couldn't figure out why. With the brothers not being close, what reason did Kankuro have to keep what Gaara was doing hidden from the Kazekage?

"Just tell me what you want." Gaara's tone was steady and cold.

"We can talk about that in private." He then looked at you again. "I can walk you home."

"They're not going anywhere with you until you tell me what you want." Gaara remained firm. He was suspicious and acting with caution. Should you worry about what Kankuro might do?

"Gaara...." He trailed off before sighing with both of his hands on his hips now. "Seriously?"

"Yes."

"Fine." Kankuro paused while looking at the ground until he finally looked at Gaara again. "I'm next in line to lead the village, but I have no desire to do so. I want you to find someone to take my place when the time comes."

"That's a lot to ask of me. I wouldn't think you'd entrust such a task to me either."

"Well, I've got quite the bargaining chip now. Even if I don't want to tell our father about your secret little nighttime visitor doesn't mean I can't." Kankuro raised his eyebrows, and Gaara glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

"I'll do it."

"Good." The sealed deal left you a bit confused, but you weren't going to ask Kankuro why he didn't want to be the next Kazekage. Not at the moment, at least.

"It's late. You should go home." Gaara turned to you before cupping your face in his hand to kiss your forehead. "I'll see you tomorrow." He then kissed your cheek before whispering to where only you could hear him. "I'm sorry you have to clean up the mess by yourself." Your cheeks burned, well aware of what he meant since his cum had been soaking into your underwear the entire time you patiently stood by as he and Kankuro talked.

Kankuro did indeed walk you home after leaving Gaara. It was quiet and awkward given the circumstances. What were you supposed to say to the man who caught you having sex with his younger brother?

"So....why don't you want to be Kazekage?" You asked after turning a corner.

"I'm just not cut out for it. I've seen what it's done to my father trying to manage everything all these years. I know I couldn't do that." Kankuro heavily sighed while putting his hands into his pockets. "So....you and Gaara?"

"What about it?" You averted your gaze, not sure what he was going to ask next.

"How did that happen? I know you're his caretaker and all, but I can't see how you decided a beast was a good idea for a lover."

"Gaara's more than just a beast." You muttered. "Like he told you, it's complicated. One thing just seemingly led to another."

"I'm kind of jealous."

"What? Why?"

"I'm still single, and yet Gaara who spends most of his time snapping and growling somehow got you." Kankuro sighed with slumped shoulders. You couldn't help but laugh at his pouting but tried to hide it behind your hand. "Yeah, laugh it up. At least I'm not dumb enough to have sex next to open windows."

"At least I am having sex." You popped off without thinking and immediately regretted your words. If you angered Kankuro, he could go back on his deal with Gaara and tell your secret.

To your relief, he burst into laughter.

Entering your house, you went to get some light in the dark room. Gaara slipped in behind you, shutting the door and locking it before he reached up to pull back the hood of his cloak. He took in his surroundings as you walked to the cupboard to get out ingredients for dinner.

"I think you're right."

"About?" You asked while setting out food.

"Me leaving the cage. For good." Gaara's words made you look at him.

"Really?"

"I want to...." Gaara glanced away for a second before locking eyes with you. "I want to be the Kazekage. But I'll need your help." You froze while processing what he'd just said. "Will you help me?" There was some uncertainty in his eyes until you gave a reassuring smile.

"Of course I will."

#Beast of Sunagakure #gaara x reader #gaara #gaara smut #naruto smut #naruto #reader x character #afab reader #exophilia #monster!gaara #lemon #Wolf does fanfic

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weepinwriter · 10 months

Text

"To say you belong to me is an oversimplification. You are the nexus of my possessive inclination, the echo of my desires, a possession that resonates with every beat of my heart."

Name : Leo (alias)

Age : She is in her early thirties

Height : 5’7

Appearance : Leo stands at 5’7”, with flawless, slightly wavy hair that falls in golden strands resembling real gold down her waist. She has striking crimson eyes that reflect butterflies in them, often accentuated by her ruby-red earrings. Her skin is almost like a marble statue in its perfection, being unblemished and smooth. Befitting of her high status, Leo is almost always seen in tasteful, expensive elegant dresses in various shades of black trimmed in gold with butterfly motifs.

Personality : Within the social circle of elites, Leo is nothing if not a perfectly well-mannered lady of high class. She carries herself with all the elegance and composure of a noble-rarely raising her voice, having perfect manners. However, even though she acts cold as ice on the outside, she has an extremely calming and soothing aura around her. People have always described her as having a surreally calm aura that just puts people at ease, no matter the situation, making them let down their guards. Big mistake. Behind her tender smiles and gentle words, lies a viciously cruel individual. Leo is very cunning, having developed the ability to deceive and manipulate others in order to obtain what she wants. She has absolutely no qualms toying with the emotions of other individuals and throwing them away when she's done playing with them, seeing humans as nothing but her pawns. While she is always poised and mellow voiced, she is also able to cut others with her sharp words.

Background : [ Under Section 27, Article 59 of the Sensitive Information Protection Act, the confidential details pertaining to this individual are currently under stringent safeguarding measures. It is imperative to acknowledge that any unauthorized intrusion upon the privacy and anonymity of high-ranking executives and officials will be met with immediate and irrevocable consequences, without the provision of a preceding trial. We kindly request utmost compliance in refraining from further inquiries or endeavors to access additional information regarding this individual. ]

Likes : Chess, glass paintings, roses (especially the red ones), reading books, sweets

Dislikes : dead flowers, disobedience, mistakes, noisy/loud people, pda, rainy days

Pet peeves : bad public manners, being interrupted when speaking, slow walkers

Trivia :

she used to play piano and would often practice ballet in solitude, but abandoned them soon after becoming a Master

she has hyperosmia, meaning she has an acute sense of smell. can be easily suffocated by strong smells, so all of her scented items – shampoo, conditioner, perfume, etc. – aren’t very strongly scented

is ambidextrous, meaning she can use both hands in perfect unison

#interactive fiction #if game #current wip #road to heaven if #asks #interactive game #hosted games #ro's #dystopia #ro leo #original character #character profile

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chainofhyrule · 1 year

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Bridal Carry

“Please stop getting shot, it stresses me out.”

“Oh, well, if you don’t like it—”

“Behave, the both of you.”

Sitting, slumped over yourself against a charred tree, wasn’t as painful as you’d thought it’d be, all things considered.

All things being the fact that there was currently an arrow embedded in your thigh. Luckily it hadn’t gone all the way through like last time, but it still hurt like a bitch to move your leg.

It’d been Time’s brilliant idea this morning to stay put for the day, and for a while it worked out great. Everyone had so far spent their time fishing or swimming at the nearby lake, or napping under the shade of a tree, or simply sitting back and relaxing for once. When lunchtime rolled around everyone split in pairs to find provisions, and when they returned, you’d decided to help Wild cook. However, the smell of fresh fish and foraged goods seemed to attract a few…unwanted guests. Long story short, monsters were killed, but a few of you suffered some fairly painful injuries. Legend was stabbed in the shoulder, Four was suffering some sort of head trauma, and you had an arrow in your leg.

Could have gone worse, in all actuality. There’d been a couple infected Bokoblins among the horde of beasts, and a silver Moblin. Apparently you were all in Wild’s Hyrule. Good to know.

“Hold still, Y/n,” Twilight said through gritted teeth, as he laid one hand flat on your thigh around the arrow, and grabbed the arrow by the shaft. Tendrils of burning pain shot through your nervous system as he did so, but you clenched your jaw and threw your hands over your face to hide the pained expression causing some of the others to worry.

“Here,” said a voice to your left, seconds before you felt someone’s hands peeling yours away from your face. Your eyes met Wild’s, and he gripped your hands firmly in his.

“On three,” Twilight said, looking up at you.

“We both know you mean two, Ran—SHIT!”

With a sickeningly wet sound, the arrow was swiftly pulled from your leg, and with the sudden flex of your hands, there was no doubt that you brought hell to Wild’s poor fingers. If it really had hurt him, he said nothing, but simply watched as Hyrule dove in with a cloth of some sort to slow the bleeding as his healing magic began to bathe his hands in a soft blue light.

“I also never said I was going to count it out loud,” Twilight said with an apologetic softness to his features, tossing aside the arrow after inspecting it for damage to indicate whether a part of it was still embedded in your skin or not.

You glared harshly at the hero, sure as rain that you’d come to see his logic later on, but hated him for it for now.

Soon after Hyrule’s hands began to glow, the sweet relief of coolness began washing over your muscles, and you could actually feel the fibres of your leg begin to mend like fabric. It was an odd sensation masked by a subtle coolness, but it brought such ease to your body that you let your head fall back into the trunk of the tree and sighed.

“Remind me to never take you for granted, ‘Rule,” you said through a sigh, earning a slight chuckle from the hero as the coolness dissipated, and you could once again move your leg in peace.

“It was nothing, Y/n,” the boy said sheepishly, raising his hand to scratch at the back of his neck. “It’s just what friends do.”

Sitting forward, you only just then realised that Wild had let go of your hands. For some reason that made your heart seem to want to beat a little slower, and you suddenly felt the need to make some kind of contact with him. So, under the excuse of swaying slightly, you shot your hand up to land on his outstretched arm. He gripped you tight in return, a worried pinch separating his brows.

“I don’t know what goes on in your era, ‘Rule, but I can’t name a single friend I have in mine who would even come within ten feet of me if I showed them that there was an arrow sticking out of my leg.”

This seemed to make Hyrule laugh, if only slightly, and he sat back with ease, bumping softly into Legend as he did so.

“Well then, call it a kind gesture from a friend.”

You nodded once, and was surprised to find yourself actually beginning to feel lightheaded. Wild seemed to have noticed, as did Warriors on your other side, who each shot a hand out to splay themselves flat against your back. Wild’s arm was still held out for you to hold your grip.

“Sorry, Y/n. Despite the healing process fixing up the flesh, you did still lose a good amount of blood between getting shot and pulling the thing out. Take it easy for a while—same goes for both Legend and Four.”

The two heroes, upon hearing their names, offered weak sounds of acknowledgment. Four gave a halfhearted thumbs-up.

“Let’s get these three back to the camp. Champion.”

Wild’s head looked up to face Time, but his body remained sturdy as a rock for you to hold on to.

“Yeah?”

“Got anything in that slate they can eat to get back on their feet? Four’s got a concussion, and Legend and Y/n need something to accommodate for the blood loss.”

Wild, oddly enough, seemed hesitant to release his grip on you, but after a moment’s stare from Time and Twilight, he slowly let your hand fall, and let Warriors take charge on keeping you upright. He pulled the Sheikah Slate from his hip, and began tapping at it.

“I might have to go and forage for something. Most of what I had went into lunch. Didn’t have much before that to begin with.”

Time looked briefly between you, Legend, and Four with a concerned twitch in his brows, before turning back to Wild.

“Then we’ll forage for now. Those of us who can will get closer to those peaks to fish in the river that seems to run through them. You say some of them have unique properties, Champion?” The hero nodded.

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Twilight, then, you’re coming with me to the peaks.”

From here the group started to split, Warriors taking the lead in getting you to your feet. Despite the pain in your leg being gone, it still felt as though you couldn’t trust it. You favoured it greatly for some reason, but with your absence of balance, you ended up falling into Wild. He caught you swiftly, his hands splayed out against your middle and back. Warriors copied the action on your other side.

“It’s not safe for them to walk like this,” Warriors commented, and he cast a glance at Legend. The vet also seemed to be having some balance issues, though he was much more stubborn than you were, and pried Hyrule’s and Sky’s hands off of him before falling forward into a bush. A string of curses fell with him, and he reluctantly let Time pull him to his feet.

“Should we carry them back to camp, then?” you heard Hyrule say, before Legend scoffed.

“Anyone carrying me back to camp gets kicked in their sleep,” he spat, before swaying slightly on his feet. Hyrule only rolled his eyes.

“Vet, you can’t even stand.” The traveller looked over at you, watching as Warriors left you in Wild’s hands to pick up your shield. “Can they be carried?”

Wild looked at you for a moment before you shrugged, honestly not minding either way. Being carried might go quicker, though. Legend could just ride Epona, or something.

“Arm over my shoulder,” Wild told you shortly, and you obliged. Then, in one surprisingly swift movement, the Champion had swooped with one hand behind your back and the other behind your knees, lifting you with ease into a bridal carry.

Warriors whistled at the display, and Sky looked over with a soft smile. You, however, were not expecting it nearly as much as you thought you were. Your hands flew behind Wild’s neck as you shrieked, pressing the left side of your body closer into his chest.

“Give a better warning, next time!”

Wild laughed unapologetically, bouncing you slightly in his arms as he did. In this moment he looked so carefree and—dare it be said—relaxed. Happy. It was hard to stay mad at him for long.

‘You’re lucky you’re cute when you smile,’ you thought.

(Tap here to return to Masterlist)

#Wild #mutual pining!Wild x Reader #x Reader #Link x Reader #chainofhyrule #Legend of Zelda #tw: wound #former Ignis post

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wildliferehabstudent · 7 months

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https://gofund.me/a0a870c8

I know water crises are global these days, but the coal miners in west Virginia are getting chemical burns from their water.

And before all the "anti-fossil fuel" people come at me- coal miners are not your enemy. All the creatures that depend on this water are dying. The government is claiming it's safe because they're only testing for bacteria- it's too toxic for most of the bacteria that they test for to survive. You can't boil the smell of paint thinner out of water.

This isn't just a human rights and welfare issues, it's also an extreme environment crisis. These are impoverished, exploited people desperate for help.

Explanation of the GoFundMe is under the cut

This fundraiser is raising money to purchase safe drinking water for people in Wyoming and McDowell Counties in West Virginia's coal camps. All proceeds will go directly to Sweet Springs Institute, Inc, a West Virginia local 501(c)3, and 100% of funds raised will be used to purchase water for local residents.

Currently, thousands of people in these two counties, the poorest counties in the United States, are without access to safe water. Their water comes out in shades of gray, black, and brown, smells like paint thinner, and causes immediate rashes and lesions on the skin. It is not safe to be consumed or even touched.

Independent tests show lead, arsenic, and aluminum levels hundreds of parts per million over the legal safe limits. Local residents have had stream water tested to reveal the water has surfactants in it-- an industrial chemical used to separate coal from impurities.

Residents are collecting water from roadside streams because they cannot afford to purchase water from grocery stores.

The coal and natural gas industries have created horrifying living conditions for West Virginians who have suffered exploitation and poverty to power the country and keep the lights on for over 150 years.

If we end up raising more money than is necessary for the local demand for water, or if state or federal emergency efforts finally respond by providing water, then we will use remaining funds to provide other emergency response provisions to locals that may include food, clothing, water filtration, or independent testing of soil and water safety.

#west virginia #coal #water #water crisis #toxic water #fundraiser #gofundme #safe water #coal miners arent the enemy #theyre exploited and impoverished #these are some of the poorest counties in the us #and i havent seen anyone on tumblr talking about this at all #appalachia #appalachian coal miners #appalachian

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snowblossomreads · 5 months

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All Because of A Hat

Summary: [Y/n] attempts to sew a hat for her husband Elliott and finds that it isn't as simple as she would hope

A/N: LOLOL AND IN A FIC THAT WAS NEVER SUPPOSED TO BE HERE WE ARE. This is dedicated to my bestie the lovely and wonderful @smilingformoney and is based on the happy ending AU for The Eternal Summer (right here!) I hope this will make you feel better :) and I hope you know how much I love you to have banged out a fic this quickly (A day and a half innit?)

It had been almost a year since Elliott had first laid eyes on [Y/n] before he made plans to marry her and whisk her back to Australia with him. Only if she would have him course! She had already been forced to do so many things in her life unfit for such a sweet woman, and he for one, would make sure she would only do what she wanted from now on.

Luckily for him, she was more than willing to go along with the crazy idea as she had fallen head over heels for the gun slinging pastoralist. Funnily enough, he had only come to make sure that she wouldn't end up homeless after her husband, his cousin, William passed away.

To say getting acclimated to the weather in Australia was difficult was an understatement, but she had managed, and managed well. Learning how to sew more lighter dresses and skirts so that she could keep the sand away, but also ward against sun poisoning. Something she had gotten familiar with once, and did not fancy experiencing again.

Bonnets were also a must in that department, and she had become quite skilled in making those as she would also make some of the ladies that would come to the station. But there was one thing she hadn't tried yet surprisingly enough, and with their anniversary on the horizon, she wanted to try her hand at it.

"Excuse me sir?" [Y/n] called out as she went up to the shop keeper of the local tanning store.

Elliott and she had made a trip into town with the others for more provisions, and she had asked to come within the guise of getting more things for her sewing project. It wasn't really a lie, as this was for a sewing project, but she didn't want to let him know what she was up to.

He had a keen sense for when she was up to something, because not only was he a sharp shooter, but he had a sharp mind as well, and sneaking anything under his nose was almost impossible. Thankfully though, he didn't ask too much, only saying that he was coming with just in case he needed to protect her from wild dingoes or the stray kangaroo.

"Would you happen to have material suitable for hat making? I was wanting to try my hand making some and thought this a good place to start for some materials."

The shop keeper, an old plump and friendly looking man with a large mustache, beamed brightly at her before starting,"Well hello there if it isn't Mrs.Marston!" His voice booming, but kind as he addressed her. "Why I think we just had a batch of leather finish tanning. Though you know, the shops over here sell some fine hats as well, why don't you also check on them?"

"Oh well thank you for the suggestion, but you see, this one is to be a gift for my husband. And I wanted to make it special," she smiled, already thinking about Elliott's reaction when she gave it to him.

"Of course of course, any particular color you looking for?"

Taking a moment, she thought about the dark blonde of his hair, and the hazel eyes of her Elliott along with what color would probably keep him cool before coming to an answer.

"Would you happen to have something in maybe a brown? Maybe a lighter shade?"

"I can certainly take a look! Give me one moment!"

Hobbling off to the back of the shop and leaving her to wait for him, it only took a few minutes before the man returned with three beautiful pieces of leather. Each no doubt could make a fine hat for her husband, but if she bought too much, he be on to her and probably figure out what she was doing. And that would absolutely ruin the surprise.

"Now this tan one right here, we just got in from Sydney and it's been quite popular for some of the hat makers out there I've heard," the man explained. "This natural sand looking one is a little different but if different is what you're looking for I think it go a long way! But," pushing the others aside and placing the third one in front he continued, "this one I think has a nice balance of color. It's a bit costly now but it'll make for a great hat! It will also go with just about anything I think!"

Eyes jumping from each of the samples he showed her, she quickly thought about how each color would look on Elliott and what other color hats he had. He didn't really have many others truth be told, and they were all a shade of black or gray. A little color wouldn't hurt, would it? Making her mind up she pointed to the last one.

"I think the hazelnut one will be just lovely! Could I get about one yard of it if you have that much to spare?" She asked as she began to rummage in her purse for payment.

"Of course! I'll get that for you right away."

Cleaning off the counter of the samples, the owner cut the fabric for [Y/n] who promptly paid for it and thanked him as he wished her the best in her hat making adventure.

Hiding the fabric was a bit harder than acquiring it, as it was difficult to try and shove it somewhere where it wouldn't be seen, considering how bulky it was. So while making sure no one was looking, she quickly scrambled to the wagon, and hid it under some crates that were full of supplies they had been bought. Once she was sure no one would snoop under it, she rejoined Elliott who was at the general goods store.

"Elliott!" She called enthusiastically once she spotted him.

Her voice had him turning to meet her bright smile as she approached, and he couldn't help the smile that grew on his face as she found herself beside him.

"There's my little kola bear," he teased giving her a brief kiss on the lips before he hugged her close. "Find everything you needed?"

"I did!" She beamed, looking up at him with eyes of adoration that made him mush. "There was a wonderful sale on some of the fabrics that I use to patch the boys' clothes up," she explained, as Elliott wrapped his arm around her waist and led them around to the other side of the aisle. "You know with how many of them there are, I might need to teach them how to sew one day."

That got a healthy chuckle out of him.

"Teach them how to sew? Ha! You may be a natural with a gun sweetheart, but I don't think any of my boys will be any good with a needle. Hardly any good with a gun sometimes!"

"Even if they aren't, that's okay, you don't have to be the best sharpshooter in Australia to be any good at sewing," she teased, garnering a smirk from him. "Patience is all you need, and I think I have plenty of that. Wouldn't you say so?"

"To deal with me? I say you have the patience of a saint."

Well, that wasn't very true now as she felt the sharp point of the needle prick her finger for the tenth time. This time it drawing blood from the poor abused digit, and drawing a sharp painful cry of,

"Ouch!!" From her lips, as she dropped the brim of the hat, causing the crown to fall right off of it as the whole thing tumbled on the ground.

To say she had been struggling all day to get the brim attached to the crown was an understatement. She had first started by making little holes in the brim and crown so that they would line up and she could sew the thread into them to connect the two pieces.

With how thick the material was, she had to use a bigger needle to pierce the fabric, and even still, it was a nightmare to get the string in because she didn't want the guiding holes to be too large. That had taken up multiple hours, and ended up with her poking herself a couple of times, as her thimble decided to fall off at the worst times.

"Bloody stupid hat!" She hissed, in an attempt to calm the raging amount of emotions that swirled in her chest. Most of them being disappointment, as she swiped at her face to keep from crying. "Why did I ever think this was a good idea? Of course the first one is bound to turn out terrible but my lord this is ridiculous! I-."

The sound of heavy footsteps caused her to stop mid rant as she waited for them to pass by, not wanting anyone to know about her secret project, lest they tell Elliott. It came closer, and closer, until it stopped right in front of the door, and a puzzled look found its way onto her face.

"[Y/n]? Are you alright in there?" The unmistakable worried voice of her husband drifted into the room from behind the door, and her heart leaped in her chest at the sound. "Heard you shouting and I came hurrying to make sure you were alright. Can I come in?"

Scrambling to hide the hat in making, even though it looked nothing like a hat at the moment, she had just shoved the bits beneath some fabric scraps she had been using to patch up some clothes before the door cracked open, and Elliott peeked his head inside.

"Yes, I'm okay! Come in!" She panted, as she dabbed her forehead, which had become damp with sweat from her rushed movements. "My thimble fell loose when I was trying to finish something and it pricked me a bit. Gave me a bit of a surprise," she explained as the door opened fully to reveal Elliott, who strode in with a look of concern etched on his features.

The little crease between his forehead deepened when she had said that she hurt herself, and she could have sworn he quickened his pace across the room to her.

"Here let me take a look at that," he said, as he took her hand to examine the wound with great care. "Now I told you I would shoot anyone who ever tried to hurt you but." Taking the hurt digit to his lips, Elliott kissed the wounded finger, his mustache brushing against her, and making her laugh at how he tickled her.

"What is a man supposed to do when you go and hurt yourself?"

A delighted giggle left her lips again as he kissed the injured digit once more, before he made his way to her lips to give it a quick peck.

"Maybe you could help me find some gauze or something to wrap it up," she suggested playfully. "And probably some cream for it as well?"

"I think that's a mighty fine idea. Now you stay right here, I have something just for that little scratch," he said, before he let her hand go and hurried out of the room.

It only took a few short moments for him to return. A triumphant smirk on his face as he strode towards her, chest puffed out looking mighty pleased with himself. Quite the stance for someone just looking for some fabric and cream.

"Here it is!" He announced proudly as he showed her the little jar and gauze he had procured.

The latter she recognized, of course, the first, not so much. It looked like some face cream the ladies at the general store would sell or some sun cream. However, this didn't seem to be any of that at all. Or well she hoped not as it wouldn't do much for her cut.

"What is it?" She asked curiously as she watched him place the fabric on the table before he opened the jar.

"Oh nothing special, just something I made for myself. Noticed a while back that all this heat and working with the livestock had my hands blistering something fierce," he explained as he scooped a bit of the substance out of the jar. "And decided to whip something up, here let me see that darling."

Allowing him to take her hand back in his again, he gently blotted her injury with the cream causing her to sigh at the nice cooling sensation of it.

"Feels a lot better doesn't it?" He asked, as he continued to massage the substance into her skin causing her to sigh in relief. Not only from the ebbing of the pain but how nice it felt to have his fingers massaging her hand that she hadn't realized had been aching. "Heard from the doctors that it's good to keep the wounds moist while they heal. Keep the dirt out and makes 'em mend faster."

"Mmm and you made this all by yourself?" She asked dreamily, enjoying watching his larger hand engulf her smaller ones as he worked the cream into her skin.

"I sure did, some honey, a bit of water, and some oils and that's really all," he said as he let go of her hand, causing her to let out a disappointed sigh. "Here let's get this gauze wrapped around it as well."

Closing the jar up and setting it aside, he grabbed the fabric he had sat on the table and wrapped her finger with the soft cotton. He made sure to wrap it just so that it wasn't too tight and that she could continue to work without any hindrance. A tailor's tool was their hands of course.

"Wow! Not only is my husband the greatest sharpshooter in all of Australia, but he can make jellies and creams as well," she praised as she took a look at the bandaged finger and wiggled it to make sure it wasn't too tight. "What other secrets are you hiding under that hat of yours, Mr.Marston?"

"What other than those two?" He started with a tip of his hat and a grin. "Well other than those two, I guess it would be how if I had to choose between being the best sharpshooter in Australia and being your husband. I would pick you every single time."

Her cheeks flushed at his comment, and her head fell to hide her bashfulness at his statement and Elliott couldn't help but chuckle at how cute she was.

"I said secrets, not something everyone in Australia knows," she laughed as she gently swatted his chest causing him to join in on the laughter. "For the record, I would choose you every time as well," she admitted as she wrapped her arms around his waist and looked up at him as a warm smile greeted her. "Thank you very much for taking care of my finger darling. You did very well and I'm sure it will heal up just nicely with that secret cream of yours."

"Of course, it's my responsibility to make sure my sweet kola is safe. Furthermore." A roguish smirk appeared on his lips as he leaned down and bumped her nose with his. "I wouldn't want any other man to put his cream on you, that's solely my job."

Pulling away quickly from him, he chuckled seeing her slack jaw, and wide eyes at the little innuendo he had let slip.

"Elliott!" She shouted, about to reprimand him but was shut down completely as he took the chance to pepper her face and neck with playful kisses.

Her shoulders shook with laughter at how his mustache tickled her, and she wiggled in his hold, only for him to hold her tighter as he rubbed his mustache over her face as he kissed her. By the time he had finished, they were both a laughing mess, and she had somehow knocked his hat over during the whole ordeal.

Untangling their arms from one another, [Y/n] picked up the hat, dusting off invisible dirt from it before offering back up to her husband. Who graciously accepted it with a thank you.

"Now as much as I enjoyed that, don't you have some work to be doing out there? If you're not careful, the boys will come looking for you."

"Let them come looking, all they'll see is a man loving his on his wife," he announced proudly causing her to once again feel a bit flushed. "I would say that they could handle things fine without me, but lord knows that would be a lie."

"Oh they aren't that bad El. Coogan's really quite brilliant with the sheep you know. They follow him around like he's their pa! It's really quite a sight actually," she giggled to herself as she remembered how the fuzzy animal would immediately gather around the tall man when he went to tend to them.

"Even so, they have a lot to learn those boys and it is my job to teach them. Even if some of them need a more heavy handed approach."

"Still, do not be too hard on them, some of them are only still boys," she spoke gently as she went to straighten his vest and smile at him causing him to soften. "I'll be here if you need me my love, working away as usual."

Not one to argue with [Y/n], he acquiesced with a nod.

"Hopefully with no more injuries? Though I don't mind coming back in to rub some cream on you and bandage you up."

"I will endeavor to make sure I stay injury free as long as possible." She laughed, shaking her head at his antics.

Grinning at her, he leaned down to give her one last kiss. This one, more passionate than the others as he let out a little groan when he felt her hands reach for the nape of his neck. Sighing against his lips when he pulled away, [Y/n] leaned up and gave him one more kiss before he was back off to tend to his men and whatever else he had been up to.

Watching him retreat, she cupped her cheeks with both hands, before scrunching her shoulders together and wiggling. God did she love him. He was everything to her, and she be remiss to let something as small as being pricked by needles stop her from finishing his hat.

She had been pricked a many of times as an apprentice and many times afterward! But never did she stop, even if it was out of necessity at times. Still though, she was going to get this hat finished one way or another. And it was going to be brilliant just like her husband who deserved it!

With a renewed spirit and a bandaged finger, she went back and unearthed the pieces of the hat she had been working on. Determined to finish it as soon as possible.

"Elliott are you busy at the moment," [Y/n] asked as she peeked her head into his office where he was sitting at the desk.

A pipe in one hand and his head lowered as he reviewed some ledgers that were spread out across the surface, he seemed deep in thought. Though at the sound of her voice, his head popped up and when he saw her, a smile grew on his face.

"Never too busy for you my little kola," he responded, going to put out his pipe, as she had once pointed out how the smell of tobacco made her feel unwell. "What do I owe this lovely surprise from my equally lovely wife to?"

"Oh stop it," she giggled as walked in, her hands behind her back as she hid the wrapped gift from sight. "I think I'm more of a distraction than anything."

His burrows furrowed together at that, and a little frown appeared on his lips. "Of course you're not! And even if you were a distraction, you're an absolutely beautiful one, I be an absolute idiot to complain," he huffed as he stood up from behind the desk and stretched his limbs that had begun to ache just before she had come.

Watching how the white button up he donned lifted and showed a bit of his stomach, and the sparse hair around his tummy, [Y/n] couldn't help but bite her bottom lip. God just the slight show of his skin had her warm in more places than one and it drove her crazy. But no no! She had a mission, and she wasn't going to get distracted because of how handsome he was. Granted that truly wasn't up to her.

"Now tell me sweetheart what do I owe the pleasure of you gracing me with your wondrous presence," he teased coming out from around his desk to stand in front of her. Though not without first giving her an affectionate kiss on the forehead that she accepted happily.

"And what's that you got hiding behind your back?" He inquired as he peered around her, trying to see what she was holding, only for her to turn in the opposite direction so he couldn't see it.

"Oh well it's just…" Her words trailed off as she averted her eyes from his gaze feigning interest in the dust on the wooden floorboards.

His gaze was so intense yet so gentle as it stayed on her, making her feel safe and loved which was all she had ever wanted in life. It warmed her heart, yet made her even more nervous about the gift which wasn't quite perfect, but she hoped he would love it still, as she had put all her love into it.

"[Y/n]?"

"I don't know if you recall, but it was around this time when you came to London and swept me away from that place that only held memories of hurt and misery," she started, meeting his soft gaze that was squarely focused on her as he listened. "And being with you, being married to you, it's been absolutely wonderful! You've shown me so many things. Things I never thought I would be able to see in my life. A-and I just wanted to make you something so that I could show you how much I love you because you always show me how much you do. It's something you could use every day so that even if you're away in town or something a bit of me will be with you."

Pausing, in her little speech, as her fingers played nervously with the item, still unsure about it, she took a deep breath to steel her nerves.

"So I made you this," she finished as she presented the carefully wrapped hat to Elliott whose eyes lit up with surprise at the sudden gift. "It's not much, and by no means is it perfect but I still hope you'll find some use for it."

Eyes flicking up from the sudden gift to her face and back down again, Elliott took the package from her with such care, that you would have thought he had never received a gift before with the way he held it. Still in shock from the surprise, he looked at [Y/n] with a dumbfounded expression.

"For me?" He asked.

She had to keep the laughter that was bubbling in her throat at the disbelief on his face. It wasn't as if this was the first time she had given him something. On the contrary, she had made him some handkerchiefs before with his initials embroidered in them. A bit of a nightmare those things were but they didn't compare to the sweat and literal blood she put into the hat.

"Of course for you my love! Who else would it be for? Go on open it or I think the anticipation may kill me before then."

Still a bit unsure about it, he did as she asked him, as his curiosity was already getting ahead of him. With

"Well I'll be," he murmured once he undid the wrapping. Admiring the hat with awe and looking at the fine detail of it as she continued her little rambles.

"I wanted to make you something useful." She replied shyly as she watched him stroke the brim of the hat, before turning it down to look at the inside of it. Oh how she loved the way he would always take interest in the things she made, another reason she wanted it to be perfect for him."I noticed that you only have black or gray hats, and I think they are all lovely, but I wanted you to have something different. Light colors help keep a person cooler and you're always working so hard outside."

"My god [Y/n] this is beautiful! Don't tell me this is the first one you've ever made because it's damn near perfect!"

Blushing at the unexpected praise, knowing this was not her best work she nodded her head yes, "it is, and it's not really that great, I think the crown may be a bit out of line if you look real close. I-I can make you another one to it's just-."

Whatever else she was going to say was swiftly cut off when she felt his arms wrap around her before he picked her up and kissed her. Her arms found their way around his neck to steady herself, and she could only moan in delight as he devoured her lips with a passion that she hadn't expected. All because of a hat.

But it was more than that of course.

"El," [Y/n] sighed breathlessly as he kissed her over and over as she stroked his cheek before tangling her fingers into his hair.

"You drive me wild do you know that," he groaned out as he pulled away from her, his cheeks flushed and his eyes alight.

"As if the Outback hasn't driven you that way already," she teased kissing his nose and shyly smiling as his sonorous chuckle tickled her ears pleasantly.

Letting her go, Elliott placed the hat on his head and secured it with the cord that hung from it while she straightened her dress as it was all ruffled up.

"How do I look?" He asked, which caused her to look up, and be captivated at the sight of him wearing something she had painstakingly put so much effort into.

"Devilishly handsome," she announced, once she was able to get over her awe. But not before she clapped her hands and pressed them against her lips, admiring how the color of his hair and eyes paired well with the hazelnut color of the hat. "Maybe you could model hats for me if I decided to make more?"

"A gentleman would never say no to a request like that from his wife," he said tipping the hat towards her and causing her to laugh. "But only on one condition."

"And what's that?"

"That I get a new hat every once in a while from you of course."

Even though she knew she would never say no to him, she placed her finger on her chin as if she was thinking. Only a moment passed before she snapped her digits together and held her hand out to him, signaling him that she would shake on it.

"You have yourself a deal Mr.Cowboy!"

A deep chuckle rumbled in his chest as he took her hand and shook on the deal. But once done he didn't let go, only to have [Y/n] squeal in delight as he once again pulled her close to him and laid his chin atop her head.

Slowly they rocked side to side, enjoying each other's company, while the sounds of the Outback began to increase in volume as dusk began to set itself up in the sky.

"Lovely you know," he muttered, burying his face into her hair, inhaling the scent that was distinctly hers which comforted him in a way nothing else could.

"Hmm? The hat?" She guessed, not really thinking about anything else as she basked in his arms and his presence.

"Yes the hat is very lovely. But," he paused, as he pulled away from her just to be able to look at her. "I mean you sweetheart. There's nothing else on this earth that could compare to how sweet and lovely you are [Y/n]. Nothing that could shine as bright as you either, you know that."

"Oh El stop it," she said going to swat his chest with a sheepish look. "It's not nice to tease a lady you know."

It was infuriating how shy he could make her feel. Even with them having been husband and wife for a year already, she was still not acclimated to how freely he complimented her. All of it was full of sincerity and love that had been so scarce in her life. And now that she had so much of it, she didn't know what to do with it other than be overwhelmed with happiness.

"But it's the truth, you're absolutely lovely my little kola, special in every way."

Lifting her head up, she started at Elliott. A smile on his thin lips as he looked at her, and even though something inside her wanted to protest about how sweet he was. She tampered it down, as she could never doubt his words. So instead she went and cupped his cheek with her hand, and lifted herself up just a little so that she could give him a little kiss on the nose, before going to peck his lips.

"I do so love you Elliott." She sighed against his lips.

"And I love you as well."

"Mmm, more than you love your guns?"

"Don't joke darling of course I love you more," he laughed as he placed his hand back around her waist.

"I only wanted to make sure," she said before joining in his laughter.

Their shoulders shook as they carried on laughing with one another, and it felt so good. It went on for a little while longer before their voice lowered as they gathered themselves. But before letting her go, a thought appeared in Elliott's brain that caused a smirk to appear on his features.

"That reminds me," he purred as he leaned near her ear causing a familiar shiver to run down her spine.

Oh?

"You've given me a gift yet I'm leaving you empty handed. Now that innit husbandly like of me is it?"

"Well, truthfully I wasn't going to say anything considering you give me all I could ever want," she said sincerely as she saw the shine in his eyes. The one he would get when he was feeling particularly mischievous. "But who am I to deny my husband wanting to gift me something."

The smirk on his face grew even wider as he grabbed her hand, pulled her close, and gave her a rather passionate kiss. His tongue traced her bottom lip and she barely had a chance to give him entrance before he was eagerly exploring her waiting mouth.

Squealing in pleasure she let him lead the kiss and then let out an equally delighted laugh as he pulled away from her. Both of them were breathless but excited as he grabbed her wrist and pulled them in the direction of their bedroom. She knew she was in for a long night with her Elliott. All of it because of a hat.

Maybe she would make them more often if the gift she received back was this.

#elliott marston x reader #elliott marston #alan rickman #fanfic of a fanfichaha #blossom writes

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warriors-wyrms-writing · 6 months

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hi everyone! I wrote a story based on @deepwaterwritingprompts and it would mean a lot to me if you could look at it :) A small fire glowed in the distance like a jar of fireflies, sparks flying out in all directions as a pair of shadowy hands warmed over the flames. The traveler limped towards it with cloak pulled close, longing for the idea of a warm place to sleep. As they drew nearer the dark figure became more distinct, with golden skin that gleamed faintly in the firelight and dark hair spilling out from beneath a hood that dropped low over their face. The traveler approached cautiously, hands out to the side in a universal gesture of peace. “Might I partake in your warmth for a night?”

The shrouded head turned towards them, and the voice that emerged from somewhere within the shadows was deep and gravelly. “Sit, then. But I have no food to share.” The traveler sank gratefully onto the hard ground, feeling the warmth of the flames sink into their bones. They unslung their pack and pulled out a smaller cloth bag, withdrawing a slightly bruised apple. The stranger next to them held their own provisions, a small heel of hard bread that they gnawed at, mouth hidden somewhere beneath their hood. It seemed to have black specks embedded within, but the traveler was sure it was merely a trick of the light; for who would willing eat a diseased loaf? The pair ate in silence for a time, until the stranger tucked half their bread back into a small satchel and sat with their head on their hands, staring into the heart of the fire. The traveler noticed for the first time that they sat on some sort of weathered stone, edges run smooth.

“Why have you come here?”

The traveler shifted. “Just passing through. You?”

“Oh, I live here. Always have.” The way their raspy voice caught in the words hinted at something deeper.

“Does… does anyone else still live here?”

The stranger leaned forward. “No, they don’t.” Firelight flashed off bared teeth in a grin, feral as it can only be in the night. “You wanna know why?” The traveler flushed and wrapped their cloak tighter as they began.

“A long, long time ago, this was a village. A village of farms… a village with a mill. And every year…”

Every year, the miller would take one grain, a single misshapen grain, from the piles sent by all the farms to be ground, and bury it in a pit of smoldering coals. The villagers thought him crazy, until one year, the stand of a more prosperous farm at the market was manned by a younger child, with skin a light gold, hair the dusky shade of wheat sheaves, and eyes of deep rich amber. The farmers said that she had appeared the same day as their flour, a week after they’d sent it to the miller. She didn’t talk much, but when she did it was soft and breathy, the rustling of wind through grain. A year later, another child showed himself from a neighboring farm, with such similar features that the villagers grew suspicious. And then other farms brought forth their children, all near enough to be twins, and all appeared when they seemed to be around five; and all nearly exactly a year apart.

The children helped on the farms, and it was soon noticed that their mere presence led to a more bountiful harvest. But even these blessed children with their amber eyes could do little to nothing against disease. The grains were swollen and black, and though they tried there was little that could be saved. So the farms picked out the best kernels they could find and sent them to the miller as usual. But some of these were still discolored, and it was one of these that was laid in the bed of embers. And a week later, a child showed up on the steps of a farmhouse.

But they didn’t look like the others who had come to the farm.

This child’s eyes were coal black, with sclera tinted a faint sickly yellow, and gold skin mottled with patches of scaly darkness. Whispers abounded, claiming the child was a curse, a punishment from the heavens, but the farm at which they had arrived was run by a woman who was kindly yet stern and would tolerate none of these rumors around the child she called hers, the child she named Keres. Even if the comb passed easily and swiftly through their sibling’s soft downy hair while theirs grew patchy and was liable to fall out at the slightest tug, they grew up surrounded by a warm and loving environment. Until they were old enough to help with the fields. It was nothing dramatic, but the plots Keres tended produced less than any others, and the grass near their favorite bench outside the mill was perpetually prickly and brown. And yet no disease as bad had struck the fields in the seven years since, and one new sibling had come to their farm. And no one loved Thalia like Keres did. They were rarely seen apart, for even while Keres did their chores, you could see their sister’s bright eyes following every movement. And then one day, she got sick. None of the wheat children had ever been ill before, but Thalia was weak and pale, with dark bruises down her arms. Keres never strayed from their sister’s room. Not for months as she battled the sickness that gave rise to tremors within her. And it was Keres who held her in their arms as her chest fell for a final time.

Thalia’s headstone was carved from wood, lacquered to a rich honey color that matched her eyes, and it sat by the river. It was the first ever carved for a golden child, elaborate and beautiful. Keres stopped working, choosing instead to sit by the mill, to sit by their dead sister. And meanwhile their farm grew prosperous. And the other children of the wheat, the ones who would visit Thalia in her silent entombment and lay wreaths over her grave, began to weaken. They too grew pale and cold, and one by one they succumbed to the sickness, in a row of graves that stretched down the river.

The cloaked stranger paused, and seemed to draw further into themself. The traveler, lulled by the warmth of the fire and the cadence of their voice, lay down on the hard dirt. After all, the night was so cold…

“So many graves. And yet the river flowed…”

With the golden children sick and dying, the town began to suffer. Weevils chewed their way through the barley. Mold grew in the foundations of the houses. And Keres sat alone by their little sister’s tomb. Soon the other people of the town grew ill, and the fields ran wild with no one to tend them. Keres did their best to help, but what can one cursed child do? And Keres was sure now that they were cursed, that this was their fault. Haggard and weakened, the remaining villagers decided to take their sick and leave, find somewhere else. Among these was the woman whom Keres called their mother. And yet the child would not go, blaming themself for all that was going wrong. They had lived in the village for ten years.

And so Keres wandered the village, doing their best to keep it standing. And yet everything around them seemed to decay, and even the moss would grow diseased and fall to dust. The mill had long since fallen down, but Keres haunted it like a dark wraith among the wreckage of the rotten wood. The only thing that grew was mold, the tendrils creeping across the damp and rotting wood. The sun still rose and set like it always had, but Keres no longer went outside to marvel at the colors. They stayed inside, perched on the millstone, sleeping in uneasy fits and starts. And every day they would press their face to a gap in the wood and stare out at the row of bodies buried along the riverbank. My fault, they would think. All my fault.

They lost track of the days, the months, the years, like a half-dead ghost floating across the ground with no sense of the time that passed, until the first traveler arrived. He had been just passing through, off on some quest or another, and sought shelter in the rundown buildings. Keres didn’t know it, but they hadn’t seen a human being in more than three years.

They tried to help the traveler, gave to him from the tiny stores of food and led him to the most intact buildings. He stayed there for but a night, but they awoke to find him coated in sweat and staring wide-eyed around him, screaming with horror about whatever imaginary terrors tormented him. His seizures ceased quickly, but they were the last movements he made before all his muscles went slack and fell into rigor mortis.

Keres dug his grave with their bare hands, black dirt accumulating beneath their ever-growing nails and knuckles covered in blood. He barely fit, and they planted a sapling over the body. They did the same for the next traveler, and the next, an orderly line of oak across the river from the tombs of the grain children. Their hands grew more callused than they ever had been on the farm, and their tattered clothes, already loose fitting, began to slip off their shoulders.

Eventually, Keres stopped caring, and that was when the grain came. It grew everywhere but the old farms and the graves, flecked with black and knee-high at first, then up to their waist, until one day it towered over their head. They pulled out the last patchy strands of their hair, and it regrew in a soft black fuzz like the fur of a peach. They took to wearing a hood pulled low to keep their scalp warm. More travelers passed through, and Keres would share the warmth from the fires they built atop the old millstone, but would never give them the bread they made from the flour of the diseased wheat and the acorns of the corpse-trees. Eventually, they began telling their story. After all, they were all dead by morning.

The stranger looked upon the traveler and sighed, pulling down their hood and revealing jutting cheekbones that the firelight cast strange shadows on, giving them a blotchy appearance. The traveler laughed, faint and tired, from where they lay on the hard ground before closing their eyes. “Good story, kid.”

#deepwaterwritingprompts #my writing #writing #writers on tumblr #writeblr #short story

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